Star Traks: Silverado - Season 1
by Lt. Silverado
Summary: Star Traks chronicles the voyages of the truly inept as they boldly screw up where none have screwed up before. In Star Traks: Silverado we're introduced to an inexperienced and inept crew as they're shoved safely out of the public eye on a 50-year old 'affordable fixer-upper' and told to 'just make it work!
1. 1 - Old Ships, New Beginnings

Hello everyone,

Space, the scary frontier. Star Traks chronicals the voyages of the truly inept. Their ongoing mission: to simply survive. To seek out new life, and flee from it. To boldly screw up where none have screwed up before!

The Star Traks series straddle the fine lines between fan fiction and parody, comedy and insanity, ineptitude and incompetence. Here you will NOT find the best of the best, but instead average people with quirks, faults and flaws. And then we plant them in ridiculous situations, just for the heck of it.

Silverado is one of many Star Traks series that are out there, most of them written by people other than me. If you want to find the full site, just google 'Star Traks'.

This story, written some time ago, was originally posted to the Star Traks Nexus and Corner Grocery Store. I've decided to try posting it here as well to see if there's any interest. In terms, Star Traks Silverado has 5 stories of 16 or so chapters each. I will post Season 1, then carry on from there if there seems to be interest. If not...well...I guess I won't. Either way, have a good one!

**Another note: While I have now uploaded almost three full seasons, I have noticed that the spacing is sort of iffy. So I am going back through all the chapters and trying to add in better dividers between scenes. Hopefully this will make things a bit more readable. But it's going to take a while.**

Hurray! My first disclaimer!

Star Trek and all of its spin-offs, characters, merchandise, etc are owned completely by Paramount and Viacom. Star Traks is owned by Alan Decker. Star Traks: The Vexed Generation belongs to Anthony Butler, and so on. The characters in THIS story on the other hand are MINE!

Keep in mind that I'm a complete amateur at writing. This story was written for my own enjoyment. If you enjoy it too, wonderful! If not then feedback is most welcome and can be directed to

Copyright 2004

Star Traks: Silverado

1.1 - Old Ships, New Beginnings

Somewhere in Federation space

"Space...it's big, it's scary and there are a HELL of a lot of funny looking people out here. These are the adventures of the Starship insert name here. It's...um..1 year mission. No wait...8 year mission...5 year mission...CRAP!"  
Newly promoted Captain Christopher Stafford hit the "stop" button, tossed his padd onto the console of the runabout Asessippi and turned to Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffrey.  
"How long do these things usually take anyway?" he demanded, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair. He was a tall, slim man nearing 30 with dark brown hair. He may have been a little young for a captain, but with recent losses to the Borg and the Dominion, Starfleet had been forced to relax some of its standards to speed up the rebuilding of the fleet.  
Stafford's eyes betrayed his nervousness, but the hard cast of his mouth showed his resolve to do the best job he could.  
Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "Well sir, it all depends," he said in his thick Scottish accent. "Some ships are out there for nearly a decade y'know. Others crash into planets, or get blown up, or crash into other ships, or get sucked into spacial anomalies, or destroyed by computer viruses. Sometimes the captains get promoted to Admiral even...but ah don't think ye have to worry about that one."  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," said Stafford. "It's great to know that you have such faith in me."  
"Ah've been sitting here listening to you try to record that thing for the past hour! If ye can't think up a simple voice-over how are ye supposed to command a ship of your own?" Simon Jeffrey was shorter than Stafford and his hair had just a faint tinge of red. His ancestry was Scottish, which for some reason had caused all of his commanding officers to have very high expectations of his engineering skills.  
"Well...I'm sure it will come to me. How does Starfleet expect me to do a voice-over anyway? I don't even know the name of my ship yet! They didn't tell me the name, the class, the mission or anything! They must have told you something...you're going to be Chief Engineer after all."  
Uh-oh thought Simon to himself. Simon DID know something about the ship they were being assigned to. He also knew that Starfleet hadn't told the Captain anything for a specific reason: Get him to the Earth FIRST...then give him the bad news once it's too late to back out.  
"All they've told me is that it's a...um...in the middle of a refit...and that...we should have nothing to worry about. Hey, how about that Commander Smith...she sure was upset when you decided to leave the Exeter," Relieved to change the topic, Jeffery was able to force himself to relax, "What's up with that?"  
"Oh...well, we were kind of involved," stated Chris, looking up at the cockpit ceiling. "She wanted me to stay on the Exeter with her. When I refused she kicked me out of her quarters with nothing but my commbadge. "  
"Oh," said Jeffrey, "Well, I'm sure ye'll find a new girl before long,"  
The runabout was silent for several minutes. Captain Stafford sat back, envisioning the vessel he would soon take command of. Akira class maybe. Or Intrepid. On the other hand, some officers were whispering about the Intrepid class being a cursed starship class, what with the Voyager Incident and all. But Starfleet was turning out a lot of ships at Utopia Planetia these days. This left them short of officers. And captains.  
He didn't mind that he was promoted maybe a little bit fast. He knew what he was doing. Mostly. There had been that one incident with the Klingon Ambassador. But hey, nobody had died.  
Simon Jeffrey was thinking along very different lines. On the one hand he felt like crap for not filling his friend in on the ship he would be commanding. On the other hand he didn't want to be ANYWHERE near Stafford when he found out. Jeffrey wasn't exactly thrilled himself, but he saw the situation as a challenge.  
"Look, why don't you just leave out the name of the ship and record it in later. Who cares how long we're out there? Just say "the continuing voyages" or something," Jeffrey said.  
"That is SO Picard!" Stafford objected, I'm not following in the footsteps of that bald pansy. You heard what he said about my mother!"  
"That she was a nag?" Jeffery asked.  
"I don't care if he was right or not, nobody disses my family," Stafford snapped, "To hell with it! Starfleet is just going to have to wait until later! Now I'm going to go take a nap. Let me know when we get to sector 001."

Utopia Planetia, Mars Orbit

"Admiral, Captain Stafford's runabout has just dropped out of warp. They're hailing us," reported Yeoman Mitchell.  
"On screen," commanded Admiral Grant. Grant was the very image of a Starfleet Admiral: Old, grey-haired and posessing a false air of good cheer.  
"Captain Stafford," Grant smiled, "Lovely to see you. Here to pick up your new ship?"  
"Morning Admiral," Stafford rubbed his hands together, "Which docking bay?"  
"Oh you're ship isn't here at Utopia Planetia Captain. She's in Box Dock 3, in Earth orbit. Beam me aboard and we'll go have a look-see, hmmm?" purred Admiral Grant. Truth be told, he was sick of these hot-shot captains dropping by every week. Getting their shiny new ships and heading out into the vast unknown of space. Thinking they were so damned good! Well, this time he would have the last laugh!

Runabout Asessippi, en route to Box Dock 3

"So what class of ship is it? What's the name? What's she doing in a box dock anyway? Those old things haven't been used in years!" Captain Stafford was almost giddy with excitement. His ship. HIS ship was just a few short minutes away! His ticket to adventure, excitement, possibly even fame!  
"Now, now captain, you don't want to spoil the surprise, do you?" Admiral Grant smiled. Surprise indeed! "Lieutenant Commander Jeffrey, bring us about to 143 mark 2 and give us the captain's tour".  
"Ummmm, Admiral, ah forgot to clean up the back compartment after lunch...ah really should go take care of it before we dock," stammered Jeffrey.  
"Oh, don't you mind that Lieutenant, just pilot the dammed ship. We do have clean up crews for a reason," said Stafford. "Besides, you don't want to miss this!"  
As far back as anybody could remember, from the great ships that sailed to ocean to the mighty starships that sail the ocean of space, captains had always been shuttled to their new commands in one way or another. Every captain relished the chance to see his new ship close up. To admire the graceful lines, the power and the beauty of the vessel he (or she) would soon be commanding.  
Captain Stafford closed his eyes in anticipation, imagining the  
gleaming ship he would see soon. Excelsior class? Galaxy class? He didn't really want a Galaxy class ship. Too big, too many people and KIDS! God, did he ever hate kids. Maybe he'd get a Defiant class...you never had kids on one of those. Or civilians. Or visiting dignitaries for that matter. Chris's thoughts were interrupted by Admiral Grant's cheery voice.  
"And here we are captain! U.S.S. Silverado. NCC-135060. Ambassador class, commissioned 2314," Admiral Grant smiled at Captain Stafford. "Congratulations!"  
Stafford's eyes popped open. "A-a-a-ambassador class?" he gasped, "2314? But...that's over 50 years ago! There are no Ambassador class ships in the fleet that are that old!"  
"Why captain, you're absolutely right! How observant of you to notice!" Admiral Grant was loving every minute of this, "The fact is she hasn't been part of the fleet. She was decommissioned in 2316 after failing multiple safety inspections and was used as a garbage scow in the asteroid belt. That didn't last too long though. She spent 20 years with Starfleet Academy as a training vessel for Year One Engineering students. Gave them great examples of what NOT to do in an engine room. After that she was sent to the junkyard at Rigel VI. Anyway, with such a shortage of ships these days we've decided to fix her up and put her back into active duty. "  
"Garbage scow...active duty?" Stafford fell back into his seat. It was like watching a bad shuttle accident he realized. He couldn't pull his eyes off the vessel in the window. He knew he'd be having nightmares, that the best thing to do would be to look away...but he couldn't. This is what Starfleet had given him?  
The ship in front of them was a mess. It was in one piece, for the most part. Clouds of workbees hovered around the nacelles, ripping off panels and removing old components. A shuttle was using a tractor beam to try to remove a large rock from where it was wedged in the navigational deflector. Missing hull plates from numerous sections gave the ship a scavenged look, like a half-rotted corpse. Black scorch marks dotted the saucer while the shuttlebay doors were splattered with...God...he didn't even want to think about it.  
"This can't be right! There has to be some mistake! There is no way in HELL that rust bucket can go into active service! There were dozens of brand new ships at the shipyards. Why is Starfleet giving me this piece of s**t?" Stafford was getting angry now...and to top it all off he was pretty sure he could feel a tear forming in his left eye.  
"Why captain, this is the correct ship," Grant flashed a winning smile, "Starfleet has great confidence in you and your crew's ability to get her ship-shape in no time. Why, just yesterday we sent Mr. Jeffrey here the progress report on her warp drive. He was very pleased with our work."  
Stafford spun around and glared at Jeffrey.  
"You KNEW about this? You KNEW? You spend 3 f**king days in a runabout with me listening to me wondering about my ship and you NEVER TOLD ME it was a f**king JUNK HEAP!" Stafford was shouting now.  
Jeffrey cringed back in his seat, "It's not my fault! They made me swear not to tell ye anything! Ah knew you'd be pissed-"  
"Damned right I'm pissed, you little son of a bitch!" Stafford jumped out of his chair, his hands going for Jeffrey's throat. Simon fell back out of his seat, his flailing hand smacking against the helm panel, disengaging the auto-pilot.  
The runabout dove down, narrowing missing Silverado's pitted secondary hull and flying out the bottom of the box dock. Admiral Grant clung to his chair as Chris and Simon were thrown against the back wall of the cockpit. Grant pulled the runabout out of the dive and set it on an automatic course for Silverado's shuttlebay.  
"Of all the stupid, immature, unprofessional stunts!" Grant fumed. "You could have killed me! What do you have to say for yourself, Captain! Captain?" Grant looked back. Stafford was crumpled unconscious against the transporter pad, his hand stretched out towards Jeffrey's still form.  
Grant grunted and hailed the Silverado. "Runabout Asessippi to Silverado. We will be docking momentarily. Prepare to receive your schmuck of a captain and beam me the hell out of here!"

"Uhhhh..." Captain Stafford moaned as his world slowly came into focus. He looked around from his bio-bed and found himself in a Starfleet sickbay. An old Starfleet sickbay. An old, filthy Starfleet sickbay. "What the hell happened? Where the hell am I?"  
"You're aboard the Silverado, sir. You had a bit of an accident on the way here, but thanks to the grace and mercy of God, you're going to be all right," came a voice from somewhere nearby.  
Chris sat up and looked in the direction the voice had come from and found himself facing his new CMO, Doctor Noel Wowryk. He knew she was pretty from her personnel file, but he had no idea that her legs were soo...and those eyes! And that hair! Doctor Wowryk was a tall, slim woman with a pale complexion, long reddish hair and a smile to die for! According to Starfleet medical she'd been in the top 10% of her class and had won an award for her work on wart removal. Waitaminute...grace and glory of God?  
"Um...hello," Stafford said, "You must be the CMO, Doctor Wowryk right? I'm Captain Stafford."  
"Nice to meet you, captain," Noel said, smiling warmly. "You took a nasty hit to the head. Lieutenant Jeffrey woke up about half an hour ago and bolted right out. Didn't say goodbye or anything."  
"He...was probably shy," replied Chris. Shy indeed! The little s**t was at least smart enough to get FAR away while he could. "What about Admiral Grant?"  
"Oh, he beamed down to Earth right after you docked. He left you this recording though," she handed him an isolinear data chip. "He said it would explain everything."  
"Yeah right. Look doc, it's turning into a really bad day and my head is pounding like an Andorian marching band...would you please give me some painkillers so I can get this over with?"  
"Oh sir, you don't want to do that," Doctor Wowryk said, giving him a reproving look, "The headache is God's reminder to you of what happened, and a reminder that He saved you from certain death. To remove the pain is to remove that reminder of His love."  
"Huh? What the hell are you talking about?" Stafford rubbed his temples. "Look, I don't know what you've been shooting yourself up with, but just get me a damned painkiller so I can get to work!"  
Noel's expression darkened. She grabbed a nearby padd and started shaking it at Stafford. "Blasphemer! How DARE you risk the Lord's wrath! OUT! BEGONE, FOUL SPAWN OF SATAN!"  
Stafford bolted from sickbay, slipping into the corridor just as the padd bounced off the closing sickbay doors. No wonder Starfleet Medical had been so eager to get rid that wacko!

Stafford stalked down the grimy corridors of the Silverado. He was NOT happy! All in the space of 2 hours he had learned that his ship was a wreck, his best friend had conspired to hide information from him, he'd been attacked by his bible thumping doctor and he STILL had the damned headache!  
"Bridge!" he barked as he entered the turbolift. Nothing happened.  
"Bridge!"  
The turbolift didn't move.  
"BRIDGE!" With a creak the turbolift began to move slowly upward. There was another creak, then the sound of tearing metal. Stafford jerked his head up, looking for the source of the sound. There was a loud CLANGGG and the turbolift lurched to the left as sparks flew from the ceiling.

Up on the bridge, Ensign Yanick was desperately trying to engage Lieutenant Commander T'Parief in conversation. ANY conversation. The silence on the bridge was deafening.  
"So, how's tactical doing over there?" she asked, "Figure out what happened to Crewman Shwaluke's hamster?"  
"Yes" replied T'Parief.  
"Oh goody!" Yanick clapped her hands together, "He's been so worried about it. Where did you find it?"  
"Under my boot," the large alien replied.  
"What?" asked Yanick in a small voice. "You mean he's-."  
"Dead. Now let me work"  
Tears started to well up in Yanick's eyes.  
"You mean freak!" she shouted, storming off to the washroom.  
Fragile human, thought T'Parief. T'Parief himself was about as far from human as you could get. His grandparents included an Andorian, a Klingon and two Gorn. He began to tap at his panel with his claws. At least with the distraction gone (for the 30 seconds it seemed to take her to regain her insufferable cheer) he could work on the ship's battered defense systems. The picture wasn't pretty; A chimpanzee could defeat the Silverado with one hand tied behind its back. He and Yanick had been the first two officers to arrive on Silverado, but their time together had not, so far, endured them to each other.  
Two things happened simultaneously: An ominous rumbling from the rear of the bridge signaled the approach of a turbolift and Ensign Yanick returned from the washroom.  
"All right!" she squealed, "Somebody to talk to besides YOU!" She ran over to the turbolift. "Hi, I'm Ensign Trish Yanick, helm officer. It's so good to meet...you..." At this point she realized that the turbolift appeared empty. 'Hello?"  
"Hello?" came a small voice from the turbolift floor. Looking down, Yanick found a tall officer with captain's pips curled up in a fetal position.  
"Oh!" beamed Yanick, "You must be Captain Stafford! It's so good to finally meet you, sir! Thank you so much for accepting me on your crew! I thought after that little accident with the Hood that nobody would take me on helm! But then that was a while ago huh? So, are you going to come out onto the bridge or what? That turbolift is kinda scary huh? But don't worry, I'm sure they'll fix it soon. Just noisy really.  
Captain Stafford slowly climbed to his knees, marveling at the lung capacity of his new helm officer. He'd never heard anybody say so much in one breath. He mentally braced himself and peered around Yanick to peek at his new bridge. His jaw dropped.  
The bridge was spotless.  
Slightly smaller than a Galaxy class bridge module, the bridge of the Silverado was built along similar lines. Oval in shape with twin conn and ops consoles facing the main viewscreen. On the back wall of the bridge was a large systems display with a schematic of the Silverado, flanked by the science and engineering stations. Tactical was mounted on the railing running behind the captain's and first officer's chairs. To the port and starboard were small L-shaped auxiliary consoles facing forward.  
Above the captain's chair a small dome of transparent aluminum showed a workbee gliding overhead. Soft lighting highlighted the muted blues and grays of the bridge. The air even had the 'new-starship' smell.  
Stafford climbed all the way to his feet and eased past Yanick.  
"Is this heaven?" he asked.  
T'Parief turned to look at the captain.  
"No" he said, "The bridge module was the first item to be replaced. The old one had...problems," he tried, and failed, to smile, "I trust you find it a pleasant surprise after your journey here."  
Stafford jumped when he saw his nightmarish new Chief of Security, "Uh, yeah. Pleasant surprise. You must be T'Parief. Pleasure to meet and all that, but I really just need to sit down. I'll be in my ready room." Stafford practically ran down the steps by the tactical rail and approached the ready room door.  
The ready room was also a pleasant surprise. A bit small, perhaps. But everything he needed was there.  
"Stafford to Jeffrey, report to my ready room in 10 minutes" he said, tapping his commbadge.  
"Uh...aye sir," came the reply.  
Stafford wandered over to his small, private washroom to toss some water on his face. He was just turning to leave when the toilet flushed. And flushed again. And again. Stafford sighed and dug the isolinear chip Dr. Wowryk had given him out of his pocket and plugged it into his terminal.  
"Let's see what the old goat has to say" he muttered. Static flared briefly across the screen before the terminal went dead. New module or not, there were clearly some glitches. With a grunt of frustration Stafford dug around in his desk until he found a padd. He plugged in the chip and hit "play". To his surprise he was greeted not with the image of Admiral Grant, but the beaming image of Federation President Bradley Dillon seated at his massive desk, a Federation flag behind him.  
"Greetings Federation citizen! This is President Bradley Dillon, here to tell you about a wonderful new initiative being undertaken by my administration. If you are viewing this recording, you have been chosen to help me build a better Federation for tomorrow!  
"Hasn't it ever bothered you to see the amount of resources wasted by Starfleet? New ships being constructed by the hundreds while the ships of yesterday rot away in the 'salvage depots'. Doesn't it hurt to see the economy of our great society drained while the number of ships wasted grows larger and larger?  
"Well, I'm proud to announce a new program designed to put your minds and our economy at ease. 'Operation Salvage' has been on the drawing board for many months and we are proud now to make you a part of it!"  
"Oh God," Stafford said to himself as his toilet flushed once again in the background, "Save us from the politicians. Who's bright f***ing idea was this anyway?"  
"By recovering old, damaged or unused vessels we use less than 25% of the metals needed to build a new ship. Rather than overtaxing shipyards like Utopia Planetia, we can assign crews to these vessels at the beginning of the restoration process. The crews are then able to better familiarize themselves with the ships they will be serving on. Better yet, we don't have to pay a fortune in overtime wages!  
"Of course, you're probably wondering "Will my family be safe with ships like that protecting me?' Well rest assured; each of these ships will be upgraded with the latest in state of the art technologies, purchased from Dillon Enterprises at a very reasonable rate.  
"I'm sure YOU will work very hard to make MY dream a reality. Congratulations and welcome to the Operation Salvage team!"  
Stafford sat back in his chair, unable to believe what he had just seen. Operation Salvage? Wasted resources? What the f**k? Following the recording was a set of mission parameters.  
MWAAAAARRPPPP! The door chime squealed, scaring the crap out of Stafford who jumped about 2 feet in the air.  
"WHAT?!" he barked.  
"Uh sir, you wanted to see me?" It was Simon Jeffrey.  
"Damned right I wanted to see you! Have you seen this garbage?" Stafford tossed his padd at Jeffrey who cringed back rather than catching it. The padd bounced off his chest.  
"What the hell is wrong with Starfleet? My ship is a s**t splattered junk heap, my CMO is insane, I've got a blond hippie in the driver seat and my F**KING TOILET WON'T STOP FLUSHING!"  
"Ah'm very sorry about all of this Chris!" whimpered Jeffrey, picking up the padd, "Ah'll send the ship's plumber up right way!"  
Stafford spun around to face Jeffrey.  
"Plumber. Why in God's name do we have a plumber? Does the Enterprise have a plumber? NO! Did the Exeter have a plumber? NO! Even the Secondprize doesn't have a f**king plumber! Wait, never mind. I really don't want to know."  
Stafford tapped his commbadge. "Senior staff, whoever you are, report to the conference lounge immediately."

Stafford sat at the head of the table in the Silverado's conference lounge waiting for his senior staff to come in. was the last to arrive, throwing him a very dirty look.  
"Well," he said, looking around, "Hi everybody. Nice to meet you. I understand our first officer and science officer are still en route so let's cut to the chase. Starfleet wants us to get this heap up and running. I want good news first Mr. Jeffrey. Assuming there is any?"  
"Aye, there is good news sir. While they were looking for a crew Starfleet assigned some engineers from Spacedock to replace our warp coils, warp core, computer core and bridge module. They're just closing up the nacelles now and we should be ready to start testing the core in 2 days."  
"Tomorrow? Ha! That's really funny!" Lieutenant San Jall was the Silverado's Operations officer. His voice was a little harsh, the result of his Mediterranean background and he was the only one in the room that had Stafford beat for height. Other than the unusually large T'Parief.  
"Have you SEEN this ship?" Jall went on, "The EPS grid is trash, the replicators are 50 years out of date, half the doors won't open and we are MISSING about 10 percent of our outer hull!"  
"Yeah, well, he asked for the good news first," said Jeffrey "I'm working on the engines! You worry about the doors for now. Isn't the Operations Officer supposed to help with ship repairs?"  
"And why the hell should I do that?" Jall shouted back, "You're the damned engineer!"  
Ensign Yanick started to tear up. "Stop fighting! Why are you two being so mean?"  
Lieutenant Jall spun around to face her. "Who the hell asked you? Now sit down and shut up!"  
Ensign Yanick burst in tears and ran for the door. glared daggers at Jall before chasing after her.  
"Nice," rumbled T'Parief.  
"Lieutenant Jall!" Stafford shouted, "That was completely uncalled for!"  
"Whatever," muttered Jall, "Can I go now?"  
"No!" Stafford turned to Jeffrey. "Find the most boring task you can find and assign it to Jall. But first he's going to apologize to Ensign Yanick by cleaning and refitting her quarters. Then you can bounce around deck 15 until you get the gravity down there running again!"  
"Aye sir," said Jeffrey.  
"F**k that!" said Jall. "No way!"  
"Let me put it this way," Stafford said, "You can either help Jeffrey with whatever he needs, or you can spend the next week refitting the waste extraction system!"  
Jall frowned, weighing his options.  
"Aye sir," he finally said.

Captain's Log: Stardate 56150.2

"Whoever had the bright idea to recycle this scrap heap should be shot."

Captain Stafford sat back in his command chair and looked up at the ceiling.  
"You know," called Lieutenant Jall from the port auxiliary console, "Most captains actually leave something of substance in their logs."  
"Bite me!" snapped Stafford. The only thing more annoying than an insubordinate jerk was an insubordinate jerk who happens to be right.

Captain's Log; Supplemental.

"True to his word Mr. Jeffrey did indeed start his warp core tests today. I understand the starbase technicians working around the nacelles are well on their way to complete recovery. I have given Ensign Yanick the day off. It's not like we're going anywhere anytime soon anyway. I believe she's presently having a bubble bath in her perfectly cleaned and repaired quarters, courtesy of . Maybe I should get him to do mine next. I don't know what's worse, the dust or the spiders. Mr. Jall is presently working on upgrading our computer systems. It seems the only software that Starfleet had any licenses left for was LCARS MT 4.0. Strangely enough that was the program that ran most of the fleet around the time the Silverado was built. Unfortunately for Mr. Jall there have been about 1 500 patches and upgrades since that time. It will take him several days to install them all."  
"Oh yeah, MY DAMNED TOILET IS STILL FLUSHING!"

"Jall, hurry up with those upgrades. I'll be with Mr. Jeffrey. Mr. T'Parief...just keep on doing whatever it is you're doing." Stafford climbed into the Jeffries tube at the base of the viewscreen and started climbing down to deck 8.  
"Why the hell did I get stuck with this damned job?" asked Jall.  
"You were asking for it, that's why," stated T'Parief calmly.  
"Shut up!"

Jeffrey found Stafford waiting for him at Computer Core Control on deck 8.  
"So Mr. Tight-Lip, what's the deal?" he asked.  
"Well sir, Ah'm not too worried about the warp drive. Once we replace the power conduits we'll be in pretty good shape. Ah did have a hard time getting that family of Albarian eels out of the primary deuterium tanks though."  
"Charming."  
"Otherwise it's going to be a long refit. Aside from the problems that they decommissioned her for in the first place this ship was picked pretty clean of anything usable while she was sitting at Rigel VI. At least it's making it easier to install new equipment, since there's less to take out," Jeffrey's shook his head.  
"We have one phaser bank. The rest of our weapon systems were salvaged and used in the construction of the U.S.S Excalibur."  
"Hmmm," Stafford scratched his head. "What are the odds we could get them back?"  
"Pretty bad. The Excalibur was destroyed in Thallonian space by a computer virus."  
"S**t."  
"Starfleet wants us out of box dock in 3 weeks," said Jeffrey, "Ah don't see how we can do it! Even if we are space worthy by then there'd no time to test how all this old and new crap is going to work together!"  
"So in other words, we're screwed," clarified Stafford, "What if we leave all the cosmetic repairs until we've left box dock? Can we get all the essential systems running and worry about cleaning up later?'  
"Maybe...if ye don't mind if they christen us 'Pigs in Space."  
Stafford signed. "Just make it so Simon. The sooner the better."  
"Aye sir. Nice Picard impression by the way."  
"F**k off!"

San Jall was bored. He was REALLY bored. He was presently on Upgrade #347: Warp Drive Sub-Processor Control 6.3.  
"Computer, initiate download: Upgrade #347," he said.  
"Initiating uplink. Uplink established. File located. Would you like to open this file, save it, or cancel?"  
"Save it!"  
"Specify location,"  
"Primary computer core, save it in folder labeled 'Download Archive 56150.347"  
"Initiating download. Estimated time to completion 3 minutes,"  
Jall sat back to wait. He'd already counted the panels in the bridge roof and spotted at least 15 different workbees flying past the bridge dome. "Jall to Jeffrey. Remind me again why I have to do these one at a time?"  
Jeffrey's reply was quick and to the point. "Because this is old software with new hardware and ah don't want to risk any screw-ups!"  
"Too late" muttered Jall as he closed the link.  
"Download complete," interrupted the computer.  
"Good. Install the patch."  
"Specify patch."  
"Upgrade #347 you outdated piece of s**t!"  
"Upgrade #347 not found. Specify location."  
"Download archive 56150.347! The one I just downloaded!"  
"Installation complete. Please reboot your computer core for full changes to take effect."  
"AHHHHH!"

Stafford looked up from his desk and smiled to himself as he heard Jall screaming on the bridge. His smile quickly faded as the computer reboot switched the lights on and off and erased the report he'd spend the past half hour working on. As he groaned, the toilet flushed for the 437th time. With a sigh he scratched his head and turned back to his reports.

San Jall cackled manically to himself as he adjusted the controls. He'd show them! He'd show them all! He could hear the ship's computers below him...laughing at him. Mocking him. But he'd show them!  
"Computer, initiate uplink. Upgrades # 348 to 1500"  
"Procedure is not recommended"  
"Command override Jall pie-seven-seven-photo-umbrella. Initiate downloads."  
"Command authority accepted. Files located. Would you like to open these files, save them or cancel?"  
"Open and install! MWA-HA-HA-HA!"  
"Initiating download. Downloading Replicator Subsystem 3.4 upgrade. Downloading FedNet Messenger 6.3. Downloading Warp Dive Control Protocols 4.4. Downloading Historical Update 78493. Downloading Warpin 3.1...download error. Initializing recovery program."  
"Fatal system error."  
"Oh sh**..."

Dr. Wowryk, like most of the Silverado crew, was not happy. She was still in the process of collecting various bits of debris from around sickbay and tossing them into a large crate. So far she'd found 23 self-sealing stembolts, 15 broken hyposprays (circa 2315) and a nest of Vulcan ants burrowing into the mattress of biobed 5 (which just happened be the bed Stafford had been on earlier). She knew that as a proper Catholic she should take him some anti-itching cream to relieve his suffering, but he was going to hell anyway so he might as well get used to it. She was heading over to the miniature altar she had set up in her office when the alarms started to sound and the Silverado started to shake.

"Stafford to Jeffrey. What the hell is going on?" shouted Stafford as he stumbled onto the bridge.  
"Ah don't know! Impulse and warp engines just powered up on their own! We've broken free of the box dock...God knows where we're going!"  
"Red Alert! All hands to stations!"  
Silverado sputtered out of Earth orbit trailing umbilicals, workbees and everything not bolted down in it's wake.  
The rear turbolift chose that moment to forcibly deposit a soaking wet Ensign Yanick onto the bridge. 'What's happening?" she cried, "I was in the tub and the next thing I know there was water flying everywhere!"  
"Man your station Ensign, find out what the hell is going on!" ordered Stafford.  
"Engineering to Bridge. The warp core is online! Suggest everybody hold on tight!"  
Sparks flew around the bridge as old systems fought with new systems to hold the ship together. Finally with a loud screech and a jolt that pinned everybody to their seats the Silverado leapt into warp.  
"Report!" shouted Stafford as the ship shook around them.  
"We're at warp one on a direct heading for the sun!" shouted Yanick, "I have no control over this thing! All I get is 'Warpin 3.1...Please stand by'!"  
"F**K!" shouted Stafford, "T'Parief, raise shields now! Jeffrey, take us out of warp! NOW!"  
"Forward shields are at 34%, lateral and aft shields not responding!" reported T'Parief. "We have a hull breach on deck 10. Emergency force fields have failed," shouted Jall  
"Evacuate that deck!"  
"Why the hell should I do that?"  
"JUST DO IT you little prick! Yanick, what's the story?"  
"We're increasing to Warp 6...we're going to slingshot around the sun in about 12 seconds and I WANT MY MOMMY!"  
With a final shriek of tortured systems the Silverado whipped around the sun and disappeared into the past...

Captain Stafford opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was sparks flying all over his beautiful new bridge and a jolt that knocked his teeth loose. The main viewscreen quickly flashed a series of messages before shutting down completely. "What did that say?" he asked.  
"Thank you for using Warpin 3.1. Please register now if you intend to continue using this program," stated T'Parief. He was the only member of the bridge crew on his feet, but he was having some problems removing his talons from the tactical rail.  
"Where the hell are we?" asked Jall.  
"Good question. Right along with 'What the hell was that'?" said Stafford. "Yanick, any bright ideas down there?"  
Yanick climbed out from under her console, brushed her blond hair out of here eyes and started picking at her console with trembling hands. "Um...um...the main computer has crashed but I think one of the backups is working. All I can tell is that we're drifting somewhere between Earth and the sun."  
"Wonderful. Anything more specific?"  
"No. Sensors aren't working very well".  
"Well imagine that," muttered Jall.  
"Yes!" shouted Stafford, "Imagine that! Jall, find a window and some binoculars and see what you can find?"  
"Are you kidding?"  
"DO I F**KING LOOK LIKE I'M KIDDING?!" screamed Stafford, "Now get down there before I give you to T'Parief as a chew toy!" T'Parief bared his razor-like teeth at this.  
"On my way!"

Stafford, T'Parief, Jeffrey, Wowryk and Jall were gathered in the conference lounge. Jall was still scanning out the windows with a Dillon Exacto-View high-powered telescope he had dug up in one of the cargo bays.  
"So what do we know?" asked Stafford.  
"We're drifting closer to Earth," answered T'Parief, "But our pathetic shields are burned out, our computer is offline, impulse engines are down and toilets are flushing at random all over the ship."  
"Well, at least it's not just me," said Stafford, "What about communications?"  
"Intraship is touch and go," reported Jeffrey, "Anything else, forget it."  
"So what happened?"  
"Well...that's kind of a long story," said Jeffrey, "But first you have to understand that it's not my fault!"  
"I'll be the judge of that," stated Stafford, "Humor me."  
"Well, it seems a certain officer who shall remain unnamed," Jeffrey glared over at Jall, "Was trying to take a few shortcuts in upgrading our computer. He tried to download everything at once, and when the computer overloaded the upgrades got scrambled. Warpin 3.1 got mixed up in the warp engine control systems and the historical database and sent us on that crazy ride."  
"Was that so hard?" asked Stafford, "Now what's the short version?"  
"It's all Jall's fault,"  
"Wonderful. So we traveled through time?"  
"Hold on!" interrupted Dr. Wowryk, "This bucket can't even replicate proper wine and you're saying it's taken us back in time? How is that possible?"  
"It's possible," said Jeffrey, "But it wasn't smart! What shields we had are fried, propulsion is offline, we have 3 decks open to space, sensors are sh-"  
"When are we?" interrupted T'Parief.  
All heads swivelled to T'Parief. Then to Jeffrey.  
"Ah don't know!" said rolling his head back in his seat, "Since the computer crashed we don't know what time the program was set to take us to. And without sensors we can't calculate star motion or atmosphere pollution or anything like that."  
"So big deal," interjected Jall, "Turn the damned ship around and go back the way we came!"  
"It's not that simple!" shouted Jeffrey, "Without the main computer we can't calculate a return trajectory! Even if we had computers and engines running, which might be possible, we still need to know the present time before we can get back to our own!"  
"Can the sensors be repaired?" asked Stafford.  
"No way!" replied Jeffrey, "We weren't scheduled to receive new sensors until next Thursday. All we have left are what came with the Silverado. And that's not much!"  
"There are no shipyards," stated Jall.  
"What?" asked everybody.  
"See that big blob over there? That's Earth. I've been watching it with this gadget for the past 15 minutes. I haven't found a starbase, shipyard or any other orbiting object larger than about 50 meters. We're probably somewhere around the dawn of space exploration. And there are no wastelands that I can see, so World War 3 probably hasn't happened yet. I'd say 1970 to 2020."  
Everybody stared blankly at Jall.  
"Did he just say something useful?" asked Jeffrey.  
"He did," said Stafford in amazement.  
"Arrghh!" shouted Dr. Wowryk, "That's it! If the only useful comment is coming from the pagan moron than I'm leaving! I'll be in Sickbay, praying for everybody's sorry excuse for a soul! At least then somebody will be doing something useful!" She stormed out of the room.  
"I'm really starting to hate her," muttered Stafford.

Captains Log: Stardate Unknown

The Silverado now has the distinction of being the oldest ship ever to survive a slingshot maneuver. Who-hoo. Mr. Jeffrey has managed to restore some impulse power and so we have hidden behind Earth's moon while we try to figure out how to get home.  
Oh yeah, nobody was killed or anything.

"Orbital analysis?"  
"Requires sensors."  
"Chroniton analysis?'  
"Requires sensors."  
"Radio broadcast from the surface?"  
"Requires communications."  
"Doesn't the runabout have sensors and communications?"  
"Yes, but the fumes in the shuttlebay have corroded some of the external components."  
"What if we did a dump of the bridge display buffer? Maybe we could catch a look at the settings the program used."  
"Buffer contents were wiped by the chroniton spike."  
"Well then YOU come up with something!" Jall snapped.  
"I did," replied T'Parief.  
"WHAT?"  
"You would be delicious marinated in Teriyaki sauce."  
"ARRGGHHH!"  
Jall and T'Parief were at the science console at the rear of the bridge, trying to figure out how far the ship had traveled in time. So far they weren't having much luck.  
"Why don't we just reverse our course?" asked Jall,  
"Because we have no record of the course we took," said Stafford tiredly from his command chair, "That's the third time you've asked!"  
"Well excuse me!"  
"No!"  
"Why don't you just ask somebody?" asked Ensign Yanick from her place at the conn station, "Somebody down there must know."  
Stafford blinked. "Jall?"  
"Yes sir?"  
"You're fired. Ensign Yanick and Mr. T'Parief, come with me. Mr. Jeffrey, what's the status of the shuttlebay?"  
"It smells like s**t."  
"That will do. Have the Asessippi prepped for launch. Bridge to sickbay."  
"What do you want now?" came the voice of Dr. Wowryk.  
"Report to the main shuttlebay. We're going down to the planet and I want a doctor present."  
"Fine."  
"I don't think this is a good idea captain," said T'Parief.  
"Do you mind? I was on a roll!"  
"I really don't think I'm going to blend in very well."  
Stafford looked at T'Parief. Looked over the sharp teeth, the red eyes, the greenish-brown scales. "Oh...good point. OK, fine. Jall, you're re-hired. Follow me. Mr. T'Parief, you have the bridge." Stafford, Yanick and Jall stepped into the rear turbolift. The doors closed with a clang and the turbolift shrieked it's way down.  
"Oh, what an honor," muttered T'Parief.

The runabout Asessippi sped towards Earth.  
"Here's the plan," said Stafford, "Yanick stays up here in the runabout. Jall, Dr. Wowryk and I will beam down to this city here," Stafford pointed to a large city near an even larger lake,"Toronto, Canada. We find some primitive schmuck on the street, get the date and time and we're out of here."  
"Why that city?" asked Jall, "Every Starfleet crew to go back in time has always visited an American city. It's Starfleet tradition!"  
"Exactly," said Stafford, We have no idea what time we're in. There could be another Starfleet ship in orbit for all we know. But what we DO know is that no Starfleet officer would go to Canada unless they were REALLY desperate. Besides, my ancestors were from around there, so it can't be too bad."  
Stafford, Dr. Wowryk and Lieutenant Jall replicated civilian clothing. Dr. Wowryk walked over to Yanick and gave her a quick hug.  
"Be careful up here Trish!" she said.  
"Make sure you dress warmly. Canada was known for its  
cold weather," said Stafford.  
Once coats, hats and mittens were in place Stafford and Jall tooktheir places on the transporter pad. "Send Dr. Wowryk down right after us. Energize!"

Lieutenant Jall braced himself for the onslaught of cold air that would signal the completion of transport. He and Captain Stafford materialized on a small green field. The sun was shining warmly overhead and reflecting off the nearby buildings. A warm breeze ruffled the trees. Bundled up as he was Jall promptly began to sweat. Dr. Wowryk materialized nearby.  
"Not exactly the brightest ship in the spacedock, are you?" said Dr. Wowryk.  
"Excuse me!" snarled Stafford as he peeled off his heavy jacket. "Let's get this show on the road shall we?"  
"Fine," said Dr. Wowryk, "Watch and learn!" She walked up to a small dark skinned boy who was playing in the grass nearby. She crouched down next to him. "Hello honey! My name is Noel! It's so nice to meet you! Can you please tell me what year it is?"  
The little boy kicked Dr. Wowryk in the shin and shouted "Mommy! This f**ked up lady is talking to me!"  
An extremely large woman hurried, well, waddled up and smacked Dr. Wowryk with her purse, knocking her to the ground.  
"Get away from my baby you perverted bitch!" she shouted.  
Dr. Wowryk jumped up and started rushing at the woman. Stafford lunged forward and held her back while Jall smirked in the background.  
"Burn in hell daughter of Gomorrah! May the bastard spawn of your loins join you in perdition for all eternity!" Wowryk shouted.  
"Oh, you did NOT just say that to me you bitch!"  
"Ladies, ladies, please!" shouted Stafford, "I'm sorry miss...my friend here is a little stressed out. We'll just be on our way."  
"You stay out of this little man!" The woman shoved Stafford out of the way. He tumbled to the ground electing a guffaw from Jall. "C'mon bitch! Let's go at it right here!"  
Stafford jumped up, grabbed Wowryk by the arm and started running, dragging her along. Jall followed.  
"Yeah, that's right! You better run!" the woman shouted. She grabbed the boy's hand and led him away. Looking back over his shoulder he stuck his tongue out.  
"Way to go, Doc," said Jall, "You sure showed us the right way to do things."  
"Shut up Jall," said Stafford, panting. "Let's get out of here. People are staring." Stafford consulted his tricorder. "There's some kind of transit hub not far from here. We'll find someone there."

Following a concrete path let the trio past a soccer field and under a bridge. Primitive electric trains crossed the bridge at regular intervals. Finally the path led them onto a busy street. "This way," said Stafford, consulting his tricorder. "Be on the look out for somebody who looks like they won't beat up the doc." He saw an attractive young blond woman coming towards them. An ID card hanging from her belt identified her as Trish.  
"I'll take this one," said Jall. He walked up to the woman and smiled. "Excuse me dear, could you please tell me the date?  
The woman walked quickly by him without saying a word. Jall followed.  
"C'mon. Please?" Jall placed his hand on the woman's shoulder as he caught up. The woman turned to Jall, "Get away from me before I call the  
cops!" she shouted. Jall came to a stop, looking at the woman in bewilderment as she hurried on.  
"Well. It seems that no matter what century you're in, the women don't like you!" Dr. Wowryk said smugly.  
"Women in our time like me fine! It's not my fault you're just too frigid to appreciate me!" Jall said.  
"Girls, please," barked Stafford, "We've attracted enough attention already!" He consulted his tricorder again, "Hmm...well here's something."  
"What?" asked Jall.  
"Well, using the position of the sun, the fact that it's obviously summer and the clock in that hair salon I've determined that it's 2:30PM."  
"Great," said Jall, "Can we go now?"  
"That's only the time you moron!" said Dr. Wowryk, "It would help if we knew the year now wouldn't it?"  
"Bitch," muttered Jall.  
"Well, let's-"Stafford started. He was cut off by a loud shout.  
"THERE SHE IS OFFICER! That's that woman that attacked me!"  
Stafford spun around. It was the woman from the park, accompanied by a pair of burly police officers. "Is this true ma'am?" one of them asked.  
"Now gentlemen, this is just a misunderstanding" said Dr. Wowryk.  
"She claims you assaulted her?"  
"Well, no! She hit me, I jumped at her, this...ugh...gentleman butted in and we left!"  
"Is it true that you were discriminating against her lifestyle as a single parent?"  
"Well, it's not me," Wowryk shrugged, "I'm just relaying God's will."  
The officer grabbed Dr. Wowryk by the arm. "I'm sorry ma'am, but we need to take you in with us."  
Stafford jumped in. "Really, there's no nee-"  
There was a sudden flash of phaser fire and the officers dropped to the ground.  
"As much as I wanted to watch them manhandle her, can we please just GO!?" shouted Jall.  
"Run!" yelled Stafford, bolting through a nearby door.

The away team quickly stopped running when they found themselves in a large foyer filled with people walking in every different direction.  
"Blend in", muttered Stafford, "but let's get away from the doors. See if you can spot a calendar anywhere. We need to get away from this area quickly."  
The trio started following the crowd. The foyer quickly gave way to a large hallway with shops lining the sides.  
"It looks like a mall," said Dr. Wowryk.  
"Wow," said Jall, "you're such a smart lady! Yes you are!" He starting tickling Wowryk on the nose like she was a baby. She grabbed his wrist.  
"Don't touch me!" she snarled.  
"Enough, you two!" barked Stafford, "A little maturity please. Let's find what we need and leave. What the heck are those?" Stafford pointed at a row of what looked like 3 terminals. Each had a keypad, a screen and various slots. Most of the slots seemed to be sealed off.  
"I dunno," said Jall, "Information terminals?"  
"Maybe. Can you activate it?"  
"After I grab one of those muffins...they sure smell good."  
"No!" barked Stafford, "We don't have time for muffins! Get the damn thing running!"  
"All right, all right," Jall pulled out his tricorder. "Hmm...it's waiting for some kind of input...damned if I know what kind. There are records here though...I can just order it to do whatever it did last."  
"Do it," ordered Stafford.  
The machine clicked and whirred. A slot opened and several green pieces of paper slid out, each with the number 20 printed on it.  
'What the hell is this?" asked Jall.  
"It's money," said Wowryk.  
"Money?" asked Stafford.  
"Yes. Money. Money can be exchanged for goods or services," replied Wowryk as she collected the bills. "Didn't you take Earth History 101?"  
"I know what money is! I just never knew that it was made of paper."  
"You gotta admit, it's a lot lighter than gold-pressed latinum," quipped Jall.  
"Whatever."

They passed through a series of doors which led down into a tunnel and then into a large, dingy underground room.  
"Looks like we found the transit hub," stated Stafford as he watched the throngs of people passing through. They all walked with the same hurried pace, looking neither right nor left. Their faces were blank. Conversation was non-existent. Stafford tried to get the attention of a middle-aged woman in a business suit as she walked by. She ignored him completely. He felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
"Dr. Wowryk, is something wrong with these people?" Stafford asked in a worried voice.  
Dr. Wowryk picked daintily at her tricorder. "Nothing," she reported, "They're stressed, but that's about it."  
"Could've fooled me," muttered Stafford. Everybody seemed to be walking through a series of turnstiles and deeper into the hub. "What are those things for?"  
"Looks like they're counting the number of people," said Jall, "Should be simple enough. After you captain."  
"Thanks," said Stafford. He walked forward towards the turnstile and attempted to step through. Unfortunately the bar didn't turn. Stafford stumbled over the turnstile and crashed onto the floor on the other side.  
Dr. Wowryk glared while Jall laughed hysterically. "Men," she muttered, walking over to the ticket counter. She gave the attendant some money and returned to Stafford and Jall with some small metal disks. "It's the 21st century. You need to pay for everything." She located a slot, inserted a disk and walked through the turnstile.  
"Why you didn't tell us this before is beyond me," commented Stafford as he picked himself up off the ground.  
"Because I underestimated your stupidity," replied Dr. Wowryk, "Which is really saying something. Oh, and all the attendant would say to me was 'tickets or tokens'."  
"Wonderful," said Stafford. "So what did we just pay for?"  
"TTC. Whatever that is."  
"Great. Hurry up before more cops show up."

Meanwhile back on Silverado Jeffrey was giving frantic orders to his engineering staff as they scurried about. None of the engineers were over 5 feet tall, turning the engine room into a production of 'Angry Scotsman and the Seven Dwarfs."  
"Noo, Ah said test power to the port NACELLE not the port THRUSTERS!" he shouted, "Cut power! You, head up to the port nacelle control room and double check the field controllers. You, see if you can get the backup structural integrity field generator running! You! If you EVER kick my warp core again Ah swear Ah will drop you down that shaft!"

Up on the bridge T'Parief grunted from the helm as the ship suddenly swung around to starboard. He had tried transferring control of the helm to his own station as he found fitting into Ensign Yanick's very difficult for a being of his size. Also, the chair left nowhere for his tail. Unfortunately his attempts had resulted in 15 minutes of electronic musical chairs as console functions switched at random before he roared in frustration and rebooted the system.

Back on Earth the away team was learning that TTC meant riding on the electric trains they had seen in the park. The three of them stepped into the battered looking vehicle. The doors closed and the train lurched forward, sending the three officers flailing for the handholds. None of the other passengers seemed to notice.  
"Wow," said Jall, "Feels like we're back on the Silverado."  
"It does," replied Stafford, "Homesick yet?"  
"Not really."  
"Let's give this another try so we can get out of here," Stafford turned to a young man who sitting nearby reading a thick textbook. "Excuse me sir, could you tell me the date?"  
The young man continued to read.  
"Sir, excuse me?" Stafford said again. No response. Stafford waved his hand in front of the youth's face. "Hello?"  
The youth turned to him with a quizzical expression. A small crucifix dangled from one ear electing a warm smile from Dr. Wowryk.  
"Could you please tell me what the date is?" Stafford asked.  
The young man smiled, nodded then proceeded to move his hands around in front of Stafford, holding up different numbers of fingers and making a series of gestures.  
"Uh, thanks," said Stafford, walking backward, "You have a great day there bud."  
Stafford turned back to his companions just as the train lurched to a stop sending the three once again scrambling for the handholds. Once again none of the other passengers seemed to notice although a few left the train while several more boarded. The train lurched forward again.  
"What the hell was that?" asked Stafford.  
"The train stopped. Then it started again," replied Jall.  
"No you idiot! I mean what did that guy just do?"  
"I think they called it 'sign language'," said Dr. Wowryk, "It was used by people with hearing disabilities until they invented the aural implant in 2068. Some cultures still use it."  
"Wow. That sounded like a professional doctor," said Jall.  
"That was on my final exam at Starfleet Medical," Wowryk looked smugly at Jall.  
"So the only person willing to help us is deaf. At least he was friendly. You don't happen to, uh, speak sign language do you?" asked Stafford.  
"Um, no."  
"All right," said Stafford, "And who's our next contestant?" The train lurched again.  
"I think I'm going to be sick," said Jall

"I can't believe you did that!" shouted Dr. Wowryk at Jall. The three officers were walking down the street, having been asked to exit the transit system after Jall coated the floor with his breakfast. They had been escorted off the train at a stop labelled "High Park". The street around them was bustling with people hurrying to and fro. One side of the street had a collection of shops while the other bordered on grass, trees and paths.  
"You can do a slingshot maneuver in a 50 year old starship but you can't ride a primitive train?" asked Stafford. Jall just moaned.  
Suddenly Dr. Wowryk started shouting in excitement "I found it!" Outside a small cafe was a chalkboard. She read out loud:

Today's Specials: July 15th 2004  
Appetizer: Calamari  
Lunch: Battered veal scallopini with your choice of vegetable barley soup or chef's salad.  
Dessert: Strawberry Torte

"Yes!" exclaimed Stafford, "Um...good work, Doctor," he added grudgingly.  
"Mmmm...that Strawberry Torte sounds pretty good!" said Dr. Wowryk, "We have time for a snack don't we?"  
"Sure," replied Stafford, "why not? I might even try some of that calamari."  
"Cala-what?" asked Jall.  
"Squid."  
Jall turned green and quickly rushed to a nearby garbage can.  
"Yuck. Never mind, I just lost my appetite," muttered Wowryk.  
Once Jall had finished his business with the garbage can the three moved on.  
"Right. Now let's find someplace a little more private, call the Asessippi and get out of here," said Stafford. "Over there, behind the trees."  
They crossed the street and followed a path until they came to a thick bush. After a few moments of walking they found themselves near the shore of a small lake. The view was beautiful.  
"Stafford to Asessippi," Stafford said, tapping his commbadge.  
"A...ear..." The reply was so loaded with static that nobody could make out what was being said.  
"Ar...dy...fin...i..."  
"Ensign," replied Stafford, annoyed, "We can't hear a word you're saying. Just beam us out of here."  
"Afghesjdkshfjljkhsdfkh" came the answer back.  
"Beam us up!" repeated Stafford.  
"Sh...ca...uron..."  
"The runabout sensors and communications were damaged, remember?" said Jall.  
"BEAM US UP!" Stafford shouted.  
"Yo, shut up! What the f**k's wrong with you f**kers?" said a voice from behind Stafford. He spun around. Three young men were standing behind them. One was dark skinned and had a bandanna over his head. The other two had lighter skin and were dressed in very baggy cloths. "You think you on Star Trek or somethin'?"  
Before Stafford could reply, Jall whipped out his phaser, stunning all three.  
Stafford smacked him upside the head. "What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded.  
"They were hostile!" replied Jall.  
"We're in Starfleet!" exclaimed Stafford, "First we talk to them. THEN we shoot them!"  
Dr. Wowryk blew out an exasperated breath.  
"Are...ble?" interrupted Ensign Yanick's static filled voice on the comm. channel.  
Stafford sighed.

Up on the runabout Asessippi Ensign Yanick was getting equally frustrated. She couldn't understand a word that was being said. She tried scanning the area the away team was in. The readings were of very poor quality, but...wait! That looked like phaser fire! Maybe she should beam them out? "Are you guys in trouble?" she asked. All she got back was a hiss and more static. Fine then. If they weren't going to answer her, she'd just beam them up. She could always send them back if there was no problem.

Stafford paced across the small clearing, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the locals. "Great. Nobody bothered to consider the fact that with the runabouts communications array damaged we wouldn't be able to beam back up? "  
"I'm sure that if we just sit tight Ensign Yanick will figure something out," said Dr. Wowryk.  
Jall grunted. "Are you kidding? She's the very definition of 'dumb blond'."  
Dr. Wowryk glared at him. "And you're an arrogant prick! God said 'Love thy neighbor'. Well, if you would talk to people instead of insulting them you might learn something! She's a lot smarter-"  
Dr. Wowryk was cut off by the tingle of a transporter beam.

Dr. Wowryk and Captain Stafford materialized on the runabout Asessippi.  
"-than you give her credit for!" she finished. "Ha! You see?"  
"Hi guys!" Ensign Yanick said with a big smile and a wave, "I thought you might be having trouble, so I beamed you up. Are you OK? "  
"Much better now thank you," replied Stafford. " , write the date down somewhere before we forget it. Ensign Yanick, take us back to the Silverado. It's time to go home."  
"Course set, sir," Yanick replied.  
"One quarter impulse power," ordered Stafford. The runabout soared out of Earth orbit towards the Silverado.  
10 minutes later, Dr. Wowryk turned to Stafford. "Aren't we forgetting something?" she asked.  
"Oh s**t" shouted Stafford, sitting up in his chair.

10 more minutes later Ensign Yanick was bringing the Asessippi back into Earth orbit. She quickly located Jall's commbadge signal and beamed up a very battered and dishevelled Operations Officer.  
"It's about time," he muttered, then passed out.

The runabout curved around Earth's moon bringing the starship Silverado into sight. Stafford sighed to himself. His ship was in even worse shape than before. The hull was scorched black along the forward and port sides from the mostly unshielded trip around the sun. Not all the missing hull plates had been replaced before the ship had so abruptly left dock. Those that had were mismatched. The ship was spinning slowly from a malfunctioning thruster. Her nacelles were dark. So were the running lights. Only a few lit windows gave any sign of life. Stafford sighed again, then felt a hand on his shoulder.  
"Not very pretty, is she?" said Dr. Wowryk.  
"No...but she's still our only way home," replied Stafford. There was a moment of silence.  
"Captain, I want to apologize. I over-reacted in Sickbay. You've been under a lot of stress and I feel that we got off on the wrong foot," said Dr. Wowryk.  
"Thank you, Doctor," Stafford said smiling, "this hasn't exactly been a good week."  
"God loves you, Captain. Welcome him into your life," she replied.  
"Doctor, you do realize that organized religion died out centuries ago?" said Stafford.  
Wowryk glared at him. "Atheists," she said with disdain, "You'll all burn in hell!" She walked back to her seat.

Captain's Log: July 15th 2004

"We have returned to the Silverado none the worse for wear. Well, other than Lieutenant Jall, and Dr. Wowryk tells me he'll recover sooner or later. She was in complete agreement with me that Jall not be given any painkillers during his recovery. has urgently requested that I come down to Main Engineering."

Stafford walked through the dark, dingy corridors of the Silverado and into Engineering. The engine room of the Silverado was actually a bit larger than it's Galaxy-class counterpart. Like all starship engine rooms it was dominated by the warp core which stretched several decks above and below the engine room. The main engine room itself was two decks high with the warp core shaft at the far end. The floor of the upper deck was a metal grill which allowed orders and responses to pass easily between the upper and lower levels. In the warp core shaft itself were ladders and a lift leading to the upper level of Engineering as well as providing access to the warp core itself. The warp core housing gleamed. Everything else in Engineering looked used, rebuilt or broken. Most of the lights were out.  
"Why is this ship so dark, Lieutenant?" Stafford asked.  
"We have a problem, Cap'n," said Jeffrey. He motioned for Stafford to follow him to the Chief Engineer's office.  
"So what else is new?" Stafford asked. He walked into Jeffrey's office. Unlike the ready room, this office had been part of the Silverado's original design. Piles of unidentifiable parts were scattered on every surface. "So what is it?"  
"Sir, when we were in box dock most of our power was being supplied by box dock reactors and through umbilicals. I've got warp drive functioning again, but we were only planning on running a few tests on the new core. Impulse engines weren't being rebuilt for another week and-"  
"Spill it Simon!" Stafford interrupted.  
"We're almost out of gas!" wailed Jeffrey.

"And so we're almost out of deuterium," finished Stafford. The senior officers had gathered in the conference room. "We have plenty of antimatter. Mostly because it's so much trouble to move that stuff they only wanted to supply us once. But antimatter is pretty useless without something to mix it with. Lieutenant Jeffrey and Ensign Yanick have been running some calculations. Their findings show that we don't have enough usable matter to finish the slingshot."  
A starship warp core has one job: generate enough high-energy to not only propel the ship at faster-than-light speeds, but also to power the rest of the ship's functions. To accomplish this, a warp core combines matter and anti-matter, resulting in enormous power output. Specifically, deuterium and anti-deuterium, a form of hydrogen. The engine needed both substanced to function and without one of them a warp core is nothing more than a fancy, 10 story paper-weight.  
Everybody in the room looked grim.  
"What about the Bussard ramscoops?" asked T'Parief. "Isn't this what they're there for?'  
"The ramscoops gather interstellar hydrogen to use as fuel," replied Jeffrey, "Unless you're traveling at warp speed the amount collected is too small to be worth the power usage. Besides, we only have one functioning ramscoop."  
"Ramscoops have been used to gather large amounts of hydrogen from gas giants or stars," said Jall. "Can't we do that?'  
"We don't have enough power for that kind of thing," said Yanick. Even her usual cheer had been dampened.  
"Waitaminute," said Jeffrey, perking up, "We have to get really close to a star at warp speed anyway. We can direct the functioning ramscoop at the sun on the way by and direct any incoming matter directly into the main deuterium tank."  
"Will that be enough?" asked Stafford.  
"Ah'd have to run some scenarios," replied Jeffrey.  
"Well make it quick," snapped Stafford, "Every minute we're here is more fuel burnt"  
'Isn't there anything else we can use?" asked Wowryk, "I mean, I'm not a big, strong smart engineer like you but I thought antimatter blows up no matter what it touches!"  
"I can thing of a few people that match that description," muttered Jall.  
"Only certain materials are compatible with our engines" replied Jeffrey.  
"The runabout still has fuel," stated T'Parief, "so does our shuttlecraft, the Avalanche."  
"Enough to make a difference?" asked Stafford.  
"Unknown."  
"Fine. Jeffrey, Yanick, run your tests. Dr. Wowryk, go do your prayer thing. Can't hurt. You've got half an hour. Dismissed."

Captain's Log: Supplemental

"Jeffrey and Yanick report a 65 percent chance that the combined fuel from the Silverado, the Asessippi and the Avalanche along with material collected from the sun will be enough to power us on our slingshot around the sun. Without functional long range sensors they can't determine just how much hydrogen we'll be able to skim, so we're just going to have to find out the hard way.

Stafford strode out of his ready room and onto the bridge of the Silverado. Lights were low and all non-essential systems had been shut down. Several decks had been evacuated so life support power could be shunted to other systems.  
"Lieutenant Jall, start up Warpin 3.1," ordered Stafford.  
"Can't do it," replied Jall.  
"What do you mean 'can't do it'?" demanded Stafford.  
"We lost Warpin 3.1 and most of our other upgrades in the system crash. All we've got is Warpin 1.1."  
"And who's fault would that be?"  
"Um, I don't know."  
"YOU! You Schmuck! Remind me write you up for this entire mess when we get back!"  
"Initiating Warpin 1.1," announced the computer as Jall entered the commands, "Current time is July 15th 2004, 1:45PM ship standard time."  
The viewscreen came to life displaying three rows of numbers. The first row was labeled 'Destination Time'. The other two were 'Current Time' and 'Last Time Departed'. 'Current Time' showed July 15th 2004.  
"Input the destination time: Stardate 56150.7," Stafford ordered, "Mr Jeffrey, status report."  
"Warp drive and ramscoop standing by."  
"Ensign Yanick?"  
"I'm ready to give the computer helm control," Ensign Yanick had brought her stuffed bear to the bridge and was hugging it tight.  
"All right. Let's go."  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Jall? What's going on?" Stafford asked.  
"Um, this program is a bit slower than the new one. It's still calculating."  
"Well hurry up! The suspense is killing me! And crouch down or something...I can't see the viewscreen very well with your head in the way!"  
"Bite me!"  
Stafford stood up and started to step towards Jall. At that moment the viewscreen flashed a "Sequence Complete" message. The Silverado lurched and groaned as the impulse engines kicked in, orienting the ship for it's slingshot. Stafford stumbled back to his chair and hung on tight.  
"Warp engines are activating!" shouted Jall.  
"Computer has taken over helm control!" yelled Yanick.  
"Raising what pathetic shields we have," rumbled T'Parief.  
With an ear-splitting shriek and a jolt that rattled Stafford's teeth the Silverado jumped into warp.  
"We're approaching the sun," reported T'Parief,  
"Fuel usage is matching simulations," said Yanick, still clutching her bear tightly.  
"Stand by on ramscoop," ordered Stafford.  
"Slingshot in 1 minute," yelled Jall.  
"Activate ramscoop."  
The Silverado flew at incredible speeds through the faint fields of dust and matter as they grew almost imperceptibly thicker. Sparks flew all over the bridge as the ships structure moaned with stress.  
Then everything went dark.  
"Captain?" rumbled a low voice. Stafford opened his eyes and drew in a quick breath as he saw T'Parief's red lizard eyes staring down at him. He looked around. Jall was slouched over his console. Yanick was gripping her bear as she cowered under the helm. Only the emergency lights were on. All the consoles were dark.  
"Status report," ordered Stafford.  
"All systems except for emergency life support are offline."  
"Did we make it back?"  
"Unknown."  
At that moment there was hum of a transporter as an officer in command red materialized. "All right, who's in charge here?"  
"Uh, that would be me," said Stafford, "Captain Stafford, U.S.S. Silverado."  
"Captain Jaroch, U.S.S. Secondprize. What do you people think you're doing?" he demanded, "Do you know how many traffic regulations you just violated? Unauthorized departure. Warp drive in a 'thrusters only' speed zone. Failure to yield! Shall I continue?"  
"No, no," Stafford jumped in, "It was an accident. You know this ship isn't exactly top of the line...we just had some minor problems with our computers. I'm sure you understand."  
"I only have your word on that!" replied Jaroch.  
"You need more proof? Have you seen this ship!"  
"Hmm...point taken. Very well. The Secondprize will tow you to repair facilities."  
"Thank you."

Captain's Personal Log. Stardate 56150.8

"We have returned successfully to the 24th century. The Silverado has been towed back to box dock and repairs are underway. Again. Mr. Jall is going to be working overtime on our computer upgrades to make up for the fact that this whole mess was his fault. I've agreed not take official action against him if he finishes without messing anything else up.  
"Oh, I almost forgot..."

Space. It's big, it's scary and there are lots of weird places to go. These are the adventures of the starship Silverado. Her crews never-ending mission: to keep her in once piece. To escape insults and ridicule.  
To boldly go where nobody else has been stupid enough to go before!


	2. 2 - Let the Games Begin!

Star Traks: Silverado

1.2 - 'Let the Games Begin'

"Osmotic pressure pump?"

"Online."  
"Conduit seals?"  
"Set"  
"Standby to open the valves"  
"Standing by."  
"NOW!"  
A short crewman in a dingy uniform twisted on the valve,  
which turned open with a groan. The relative silence of the jeffries tube was shattered by a heavy banging.  
Bang...bang...BANG! BANG! BANGBANGBANGBANG!  
"I'm reading elevated oxygen levels in the conduits!"  
"Compensate! Close the aeration injectors to 30 percent!"  
The banging slowly subsided and was replaced by a quiet hiss.  
"Rookes to Jeffrey," said Crewman Rookes, the ship's plumber, as he closed his tricorder. "Running water has been restored to Deck 12."  
"Good work," came the accented reply from Engineering,  
"Carry on."  
"Aye sir."

Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffrey yawned as he tapped Rookes' report into his engineering log. Jeffrey's normally reddish hair was dark with soot. He wore a tired, haggard expression and his uniform was covered with bits of insulation after an encounter with a nest of Rigellian zorniks in jeffries tube 26-28C. Jeffrey had been working double shifts for the past week,  
ever since the Silverado had returned from her accidental trip to the past. The trip had only aggravated the poor condition of the ship. Jeffrey had made repairs in Main Engineering top priority. The piles of junk were gone, the damaged panels and missing displays had been replaced. Only the grungy walls betrayed the true age of the compartment. That and the fact that most of the displays showed error messages, warnings and failure reports. Checking his chrono Jeffrey realized it was time for his report to the Captain. Captain Stafford wanted to be kept informed of the progress being made on Silverado's refit.  
"Jeffrey to Stafford," he said as he tapped his commbadge.  
"Stafford here. What's up?" came the reply.  
"We've finally restored life support to decks 15, 16 and 17. Ensign Buck figures his team will be done overhauling impulse reactor 4 in another 5 hours. Replicators will still be at least 4 days and Crewman Rookes just restored water on deck 12."  
"Good job," said Stafford, "Once Buck is finished with reactor 4 he can move on to reactor 5. Has Rookes checked out the toilet in my ready room yet?  
"He took a quick look. He thinks it's a problem with computer controls. Ah think it's the flow regulator."  
"So who's going to fix it?'  
"We're still working on that sir."  
"Well hurry up!" snapped Stafford, "This thing is driving me crazy!"  
"Aye sir."

Captain Chris Stafford was on his office shift. Between getting his paperwork in order and helping out with the refit he was working as much as Jeffrey. He had been starting his day filling out paperwork for Alpha shift then reporting down to Engineering to help out Beta shift. He leaned back in his chair and tried to stretch the knots out of his tall, wiry frame. He turned back to his report for the Department of Temporal Investigations, wincing as he heard his ready room toilet flush on its own. He grabbed another padd from his cluttered desk and added a line to the tally labeled "Toilet Flushes". The total was somewhere around 950. He was interrupted by the comm.  
"Yanick to Stafford."  
"Yes Ensign, what can I do for you?" Stafford replied. Yanick was quickly becoming Stafford's favorite officer to deal with. Sure she made a few mistakes, but those were mostly caused by her not paying attention. As long as she was focused on her duties she was fine. And her cheerful attitude was like a warm beam of sunshine. Especially when he compared her to her frigid best friend, Dr. Wowryk.  
"I just wanted to remind you that Commander Noonan's shuttle is due in 15 minutes. Also we have a group of civilians waiting at the starboard airlock," Yanick reported.  
"Thank you Ensign," replied Stafford. "That would be our lounge staff. Why don't you greet them and show them to what's left of the crew lounge? I'll head down to the shuttlebay."  
"Gotcha! Have fun!" Yanick closed the channel.  
Yanick walked past Lieutenant San Jall on her way to the rear turbolift. Jall was hunched over the port auxiliary console. The console was set into the port wall of the bridge with displays on the panel and on the wall allowing for a much more detailed display than the standard Ops panel at the front of the bridge. Jall had dark bags under his eyes and a mug of black coffee sat on the panel.  
"How ya doing?" asked Yanick on the way by.  
"No talk, must finish. Pretend not to hear her, she'll go away," muttered Jall to himself. He'd been working almost non-stop for the past week on getting the Silverado's outdated computer core software up to date.  
"Ok, well, have fun!" Yanick said happily. She stepped into the turbolift. "Starboard airlock please!"  
"Sure thing!" replied the computer.  
"Thank you!"  
"You're welcome!" With its customary screech (Jeffrey was planning to fix that tomorrow) the turbolift jerked to a start. It came to a stop on deck 8 and the left door opened. The right door sort of jerked a bit then froze. Yanick's shoulder crashed into the door. "Owww!" Frowning back at the turbolift Yanick made her way through the busy corridors toward the airlock. As more of the ship became habitable and more crewmembers arrived the Silverado was starting to take on new life. Sure the corridors were still filthy and tons of stuff didn't work, but Yanick was pretty sure Jeffrey would take care of that. All she cared about was having more people around.  
Yanick arrived at the airlock to find a tall, thin man with brown hair leaning against the wall. He looked pretty young. He was very handsome too. Chatting amongst themselves nearby was a group of 4 civilians, 3 women and one man.  
"Hello, welcome to Silverado," Yanick beamed as she shook the man's hand, "I'm Ensign Yanick, pleasure to meet you all."  
"Steven Stieger," replied the man, "Thanks. We've been waiting down here for a while; I was starting to think you'd forgotten about us."  
"Sorry about that," Yanick said with a laugh, "If you'll follow me I'll show you to the lounge. We've just been so busy here! Just yesterday I was telling the captain how hard everybody's been working and how much we need a good place to unwind.  
There's a bar over on Spacedock but those starbase guys are pigs and too many of our people were getting into fights. And I was also just saying-"  
"Well, that's what we're here for," Steven interjected,  
"We're kinda rushed, we usually have more notice than this, but we'll do what we can."  
"Oh yeah, sorry about that too," said Yanick, "we originally had somebody from Guinanco coming in but they took one look at the place and left."  
Steven's face darkened at the mention of Guinanco, the corporation that was taking over more and more starship lounges and putting hard working people like Steven out of business. "Well don't you worry ma'am, you'll find we're much easier to deal with than they are."  
Yanick had led them to the back of the saucer section and to a pair of scratched doors with wood finish and circular windows. One of the windows was shattered. "And here we are! The crew lounge is right here; your quarters are just down that corridor. I need to get back to the bridge but you can call me on this if you need any help," she handed him an old style flip communicator. "Unfortunately I don't think the commpanels in there work yet. Anyway, it was great meeting you!" She gave Steven a bigger than normal smile then walked away.  
Steven peered into the lounge saw the cobwebs in the Corners the battered tables and torn carpeting the gaping hole in the wall where the replicators should be. He turned to one of his waitresses.  
"Do you have that synthehol request form for Starfleet Supply?" he asked.  
"Yeah, it's right here."  
"Whatever we're asking for, double it."  
There was a sudden shrill scream from the direction Yanick had gone. Steven rushed down the corridor.  
Ensign Yanick was sitting on the floor, a large bucket on her head and a thick green goop oozing down her shoulders. Up above was an open ceiling panel.  
"Are you OK?" asked Steven.  
"It's in my hair!" cried Yanick, "Yuck! What is it?"  
Steven took a quick smell. "Lime jello."  
"Jello?"  
"Yup. Looks like you're the victim of a practical joke. A pretty funny one actually...but still completely uncalled for!" Steven quickly backtracked when he was the glare forming on Yanick's face. "It's NOT funny! If anybody comes looking for me, I'm in the shower!" she said as she stormed off.

Captain Stafford stood in the control tower of the main shuttlebay watching Commander Noonan's shuttle enter the bay. The force field used to contain the atmosphere was functional but Stafford preferred not to take any chances. Once the bay doors were closed he entered the bay and walked towards the shuttle where a tall, very pale man with dark shiny hair was emerging. He looked so young! Stafford knew cadets were being rushed through the Academy to replace troops lost in recent conflicts, but a first officer should have some tempering, some maturity. Oh well,  
nothing he can do about it now.  
"Commander Noonan?" Stafford inquired.  
"Yes. Commander Matthew Noonan, reporting for duty,"  
Noonan extended his hand. Stafford shook it. Noonan's hand was smooth and cool to the touch.  
"Captain Christopher Stafford. Welcome aboard."  
"Thank you Captain," Noonan said with a small smile. His voice was mellow, smoothing. "I would like you to meet Lieutenant Jane Fifebee and-"  
Noonan was cut off as the lights in the shuttlebay died.  
"Oh, don't worry about that," said Stafford, "Our Operations Officer is just doing another system reboot. We've had a lot of that lately."  
"I see," said Noonan, "As I was saying-"  
Noonan was cut off again as the lights came back on and loud, tinny music began blaring out of the comm system.  
"It's raining men! Alleluia it's raining men! AMEN!"  
"Stafford to Jall, what the f**k is going on?" Stafford tried to shout over the horrible music.  
"I don't know! It just came on when the computer restarted! I can't shut it down! The interface is frozen!" came the reply, "Comm systems all over the ship are locked in."  
"Well shut down the computer!" roared Stafford, "Switch us to backups!"  
"Are you sure? It's really not that bad..."  
"NOW!"  
The music (and lights) cut out. Silence rang in the shuttlebay as emergency lights came up.  
"You've had a lot of that lately?" inquired Noonan with a grin.  
"Not exactly."  
"Ah." Noonan seemed unperturbed, even amused. "Anyway,  
this is Jane Fifebee and Dr. Luis Zimmerman. Lieutenant Jane Fifebee was an average height woman with jet-black hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her face was extremely pale, her eyes dark. She had a very slender body. Stafford smiled as he shook her hand.  
"Welcome aboard Lieutenant Fifebee," he said, "I hope your voyage was comfortable."  
"Thank you captain," her voice was cool, with the faintest hint of distain. "Jane 5-B actually. This gentleman here was 'humanizing' it. He claims it will help me fit in better."  
"I see. Excuse me, but are you an android then?"  
"Hardly," said an older, balding man as he stepped out of the shuttle, "She is the Holographic Starfleet Officer Mark 5, an offshoot of the EMH program. I've spent the past 3 years designing her and you people are going to field-test her. If your ship doesn't break apart when you leave dock."  
"This is Dr. Zimmerman," said Fifebee. (Stafford found it easier to think of her that way.) "He created my program at Jupiter Station and has been looking for a ship to place me on. It's part of a study done by the Federation to see how well sentient holograms can integrate into society."  
"Interesting," said Stafford, "And just FYI, we've already left dock without breaking apart."  
"Yes," stated Zimmerman flatly, "I do watch the holo-vision now and then. Your little escapade isn't exactly something to be proud of."  
A pair of crewmen had started unloaded cargo from the shuttle. One was guiding a cylindrical contraption about the size of a 20th century hot water heater. The device hovered on antigravs and had a control console and display screen on one side. It was topped with a subspace transceiver array and encircled by a rail-like handgrip. As the crewman guided the thing out of the shuttle it banged into the hatchway. Lieutenant Fifebee flickered.  
"Careful with that!" snapped Zimmerman and Fifebee together. Fifebee turned to Stafford. "My holographic relay," she explained.  
"I was kinda wondering about that. I had no idea we had perfected mobile hologram emitters." said Stafford as we walked over to examine the device.  
We haven't," said Zimmerman, "It's a holographic RELAY. Fifebee's program is currently running back on Jupiter Station. They transmit commands to the relay telling it what she's doing,  
what she's saying and so forth. The relay generates the image and sends her surroundings and input back to Jupiter Station. The effective projection range is 100 to 500 meters, depending on obstructions and conditions. It's really a clever system I've designed. True mobile emitters are centuries from development,  
but this works very well." Zimmerman was sounding very smug.  
"Wow," Stafford muttered.  
"It's very impressive technology," said Noonan, "Artificial beings, free of restraint."  
"Almost," stated Fifebee.  
"Right, but last time I checked Silverado didn't have any holographic systems. Do you plan to project her from Jupiter the entire time?" Stafford asked.  
"No, my team will be arriving next week to install holographic systems. Modern-," Zimmerman stressed the word 'modern', "-Ambassador-class ships replaced superfluous recreational facilities with holodecks when the technology was perfected. We will attempt to bring this...vessel...up to current standards."  
"Goody for us," said Stafford. The idea of having holodecks aboard was a relief. The ship's bowling alley, Hopscotch room and Parcheesi lounge didn't appeal to him, so he didn't mind having them converted. This Zimmerman was a condescending bastard though and Stafford was getting annoyed. "Thank you so much for all your help Doctor. I hope your 'HSO'-5 is more successful than your EMH-2. Call somebody else if you need anything." Stafford left the shuttlebay with Noonan following. Jall had finally gotten the computer back up so Stafford was able to use the turbolift.  
"That was rude, captain," said Noonan.  
"Yeah well, he was being an ass," replied Stafford, "you better get used to it on this ship."  
"I see."  
"So what brings you to this assignment?" Stafford asked.  
"It looked interesting."  
"That's one way of putting it."

The next morning Stafford was awakened by the computer alarm. He groaned. He'd been up later than usual going over personnel and ship status reports with Noonan. Noonan kinda creeped him out. The guy was smart. Really smart. And calm. And polite. And unlike most of the Silverado crew he had actually CHOSEN this assignment. What was up with that? And that look of perpetual amusement that never left his face was grating at Stafford's nerves. Still, he considered as he walked into the shower,  
Noonan wasn't THAT bad to work with and his skills were badly needed.  
Stafford hadn't seen Fifebee or Zimmerman since he'd left them in the shuttlebay. Presumably they were doing hologram stuff.  
He climbed out of the shower and sat down to his breakfast ration pack. His peaceful morning was shattered by a loud roar. Stafford bolted into the corridor in his red Starfleet housecoat. The sound was coming from T'Parief's quarters. Stafford hit the comm.  
"Stafford to T'Parief," he barked, "Are you all right?"  
"DO NOT ENTER!" roared T'Parief.  
Too late. Stafford had already keyed the door. What he saw taught him more about the mixed-breed officer's anatomy than he ever wanted to know. He was distracted from that however by the fact that T'Parief was now a blinding shade of hot pink.  
I HAVE BEEN SABOTAGED!" roared T'Parief, swiping at the wall of his quarters. His claws left deep gashes. "MY ENEMIES WILL PAY FOR THIS!"  
"PUT SOME PANTS ON!" Stafford wailed.  
T'Parief snatched at a towel. Unfortunately his claws were still extended, shredding the towel to pieces. "GET OUT!" he shouted."  
"I'm gone!" Stafford said and bolted out the door.

The morning staff meeting wasn't called, it just sort of happened. Jall came rushing into Stafford's ready room bitching about the computer sabotage from the day before. T'Parief came storming in still pink despite numerous attempts to wash off the paint. After Yanick beeped the door chime Stafford moved the whole bunch to the conference lounge and called Jeffrey, Noonan and Wowryk up. Fifebee arrived with Noonan.  
"That song was broadcast to the entire Sol system!" Jall said, "You should see some of the messages that came in overnight!"  
"This is NOT acceptable!" said T'Parief, "We've been made fools of! "  
"My hair is still green!" wailed Yanick.  
"Your hair?" shouted T'Parief, "LOOK AT ME!"  
"Looks cute on you," said Jall smirking.  
"ARRGGHHH!"  
"Are they always like this?" Noonan muttered to Stafford.  
"Usually."  
"Fascinating."  
"-king virus f**ked up the entire entertainment database! All we have left is 'I Love Lucy' and something called 'Vengaboys'!"  
Jall finished.  
"People! Quiet down!" Stafford ordered. The arguing officers paid him little attention.  
"Allow me, Captain," said Fifebee. A bullwhip materialized in her hand. She snapped it across the table. Conversation was cut off as everybody turned to look at her."  
"Ahem. Thank you. Anyway, do we have any idea who did this?" Stafford asked.  
T'Parief spoke, "Internal sensors are still spotty. I have not been able to detect anything unusual around my shower, Computer Core Control, or the corridor in which Yanick had her little accident."  
"Little?" Yanick said, screwing up her face.  
"Whatever," T'Parief said. "I believe it was either a member of the crew or one of the Spacedock technicians."  
"I would think it would be a member of the crew,"  
interjected Dr. Wowryk, "They know who to go after and they know the ship better than Spacedock."  
"Ah don't think so," said Jeffrey, "The Spacedock boys were over here working on the warp drive and computer core long before we were. Ah know nobody on my staff would do anything like that to Mr. T'Parief, they're all too terrified he'll step on them as it is. "  
"I concur," said T'Parief, "And although everybody hates Jall, Ensign Yanick has done nothing to warrant this treatment. There is no motive."  
"Awww!" Yanick sniffed back a tear" That's so sweet!" She rushed over and gave T'Parief a big hug. Stafford swore he saw T'Parief redden slightly. On the other hand, that could just be the paint.  
"Yeah, thanks," muttered Jall.  
"Anything in the computers Jall?" asked Stafford.  
"I dunno. I haven't looked."  
Everybody glared at him. "Why the hell not?" shouted Jeffrey. "Are ye daft?'  
"I've got better things to do."  
"Not anymore," said Stafford, "Somebody is toying with us,  
and I want it to stop!"

Fifebee followed Stafford onto the bridge. Stafford saw that her holo-relay had been parked in a corner by the main viewscreen. "You have a very interesting crew captain, very unique," she said.  
"I've noticed. I'm sure Dr. Zimmerman programmed you to be the perfect Starfleet officer, but I'm afraid you'll find that may make it difficult for you to fit in with them."  
"He didn't"  
"Really? Why not?  
"It was felt that as a sentient being I should develop my own personality. I have the knowledge of dozens of the quadrant s top scientists including their personality profiles but I have no defined personality of my own." Fifebee looked a bit sad at this.  
"I'm sure it will come to you," Stafford reassured her, "Just let it happen naturally." Right. Preaching to a hologram about natural development. Smooth Chris, very smooth. He walked over to his ready room. Noonan was waiting inside.  
"That was interesting," Noonan said.  
"Yeah, your first staff meeting on the Silverado. How did you like it?" Stafford said tiredly.  
"I rather enjoyed it."  
"Huh?"  
"Captain, I requested this assignment because I was bored. Map this catalogue that. Everywhere you have rules and protocols and the same cookie cutter officers. Quite frankly I had tried to get assigned to the Secondprize or the Explorer, but they didn't have any place for me," Noonan explained.  
"Really," said Stafford dryly. "You mean you rate us as being below the Secondprize."  
"I can't really say," Noonan replied, "The Secondprize is famous for its unique approach to things. Your ship is an unknown. I intend no offense."  
"Gotcha."  
"May I ask what you plan to do about these incidents?"  
Stafford thought for a moment. "Find out who's doing this,  
report them and let Starfleet deal with it."  
"I have a suggestion," said Noonan. He slid a padd across Stafford's desk. Stafford picked it up. It was a personnel report for one of the night shift security officers, one the Starbase engineers had probably never met. Stafford felt an evil grin spreading.  
"What did you have in mind?"

Captain's Log: Stardate 56160.8 "Lieutenant Jall has finished his check of our computer logs and detected an unauthorized access. He's managed to track it to Garroth Lynch, foreman of Spacedock engineering team 17,  
currently assigned to the Silverado."  
"It's suspicious," rumbled T'Parief, "It was too easy to find,  
even for somebody of Jall's skills."  
"Hey, I didn't see you come up with anything better!" Jall shot back.  
"Well I think it makes sense!" Yanick piped in from where she was working on the helm console. "Any why is that?" inquired with an arched eyebrow.  
"Well, jokes aren't any fun if your victim doesn't know who did it! I remember this one time at home, I locked my brother in his shuttlepod when he and his girlfriend were making out, then I short circuited one of the thrusters. They were stuck spinning in that thing for hours! It was soo funny!" Yanick started giggling to herself.  
"Right," said Jall, "and your point would be?  
"Oh! Uh, I forget."  
"Ah think she's right!" shouted Jeffrey from within the guts of the rear turboshaft. (Stafford had decided he couldn't take the racket anymore) "It's much more fun when they know who did it."  
"Fine," said Stafford, "Here's the plan..."

Garroth Lych and his team were boarding the construction vessel Caterpillar. Soon they'd be leaving the lower engineering levels of Spacedock and making the short trip to Silverado's box dock. He was getting a real kick out of messing with the Silverado crew. He'd been intercepting their message traffic after the little song broadcast. He thought the invitation for 'coffee and scones' from the United Duraniam Workers of Titan was particularly amusing. He was feeling a bit bitter towards Starfleet. The Silverado refit would have kept his boys in work for months if it weren't for this 'Operation Salvage' bulls**t Still lost in thought Lynch stepped into the Caterpillar's locker room and started stripping down to change into his EV suit. Most modern spacesuits were worn more like jackets or ski-pants,  
but if you were going to spend 8 to 10 hours in your suit, you needed to go the full mile, support systems and all. You couldn't just unzip your fly to take a leak while EV after all. He heard a sudden creak. Somebody was already here! "Hey guys, I'm trying to change, what do you think you're doing-OH GOD!" he screamed in terror, cringing against the rear wall.  
The beast was terrifying! It was huge! Almost 7 feet from toes to shoulders. It had no head, rather its large eyes were where a chest should be with a gaping, toothless mouth right below. It was covered in thick red fur.  
"RAARRRRRR!" the creature roared.  
"AHHHHHH!" Lynch screamed again. He bolted for the door wetting himself along the way.

Back on the Silverado's bridge Stafford and his officers were watching the main viewscreen anxiously. Noonan and Fifebee had tapped into the Spacedock security grid. After a few wrong turns (Stafford hadn't realized that Spacedock had a Risan Bordello on board) they had managed to display the view from the security camera in the Caterpillar's docking bay.  
"Any second now," said Stafford shortly after the last engineer had walked up the ramp into the ship. Sure enough seconds later they saw a rush of figures bolting from the ships hatchway and out of the docking bay.  
"Run! Dear God, RUN!"  
"It's after me!"  
"Help!"  
Everybody on the bridge burst into laughter as Lynch followed his team in the mad rush for the exits wearing nothing but a strategically placed helmet.  
"Who-hoo!"  
"Nice legs baby!"  
"Yee-Haw!"  
Ensign Dar'ugal AKA the hairy red beast jogged out of the Caterpillar giving one last snarl in the direction of the departing workers. He had agreed to take part in the revenge against Spacedock in exchange for extra water shower privileges.  
"Stafford to Dar'ugal," Stafford forced out between fits of giggles, "Well done Ensign! Take a bow!"  
Ensign Dar'ugal obediently bowed towards the camera then waved.  
"Silverado to Asessippi, beam him out of there before Spacedock Security shows up."  
Dar'ugal vanished in the shimmer of the runabout's transporter.  
Stafford turned to Noonan. "Man, I so needed that. The only thing that could make this moment better would be a stiff drink."  
"We're just lucky that the Baruda are new to the Federation or they might have recognized him," replied Noonan.  
"Yeah well, they didn't. I think we've taught them not to f**k with us.

Steven was working in the crew lounge. He'd removed all the cobwebs and debris and determined that the existing furniture was a total loss. Normally he'd start replicating new stuff as soon as he had decided on a theme, but the replicators were still offline. His synthohol shipment had arrived from Starfleet Supply and he was in the process of cleaning all the shelves below and behind the bar. He had a strong feeling that the crew of this ship was going to need to get seriously drunk sooner or later, furniture or not.  
The doors opened to admit a petite brunette officer dragging what looked to Steven like the quadrant s biggest beer can.  
(The quadrant s biggest beer can was in fact on Caggar 7.)  
"Can I help you with something ma'am? Steven asked.  
"Yes. I am Commander Jane Fifebee. I am looking for the crew lounge," she replied.  
"Well, you found it. Name's Steven," he took her hand and kissed her knuckles as she raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but we're closed."  
"Unfortunate. Where is the crew socializing?"  
"Um, they're not. Which is probably why they're all being such bitches." Steven replied.  
"Bitches?" Fifebee inquired.  
"Um, grumpy."  
"I see."  
There was silence for a moment. "What's that thing?"  
Steven finally asked.  
"My holo-relay. It allows me to move around the ship without holo-emitters." Fifebee replied.  
"You're a hologram?"  
"Yes."  
The conversation died again. This time Jane broke the silence.  
"It was a pleasure meeting you Steven. I am sure we'll see more of each other in the future."  
"Uh, yeah," Steven replied as she walked back out pulling the holo-relay behind her. "Man, what will they think of next?"

Captains Personal Log: Stardate 56163.4 "The past couple of days have been relatively uneventful. Lieutenant Commander Jeffrey 'accidentally' jammed the bridge bathroom door leaving Lieutenant Jall trapped inside for over an hour. Lieutenant Commander T'Parief has gotten most of the paint off, although he's still looking a little colourful. He spent most of yesterday morning in sickbay with Dr. Wowryk. Apparently he developed a nasty rash in sensitive areas after using a can of Dillon's Miracle Paint Remover. Dr. Wowryk and Ensign Yanick have been giggling about Directors know what ever since he left sickbay."  
Stafford walked out of his ready room and onto the bridge. "Our supply freighter from Utopia Planetia has arrived." Jall called from his console.  
"Great. Advise Jeffrey to start unloading. Remind him to double check the manifest, we don't need to get short changed."  
Stafford ordered.  
"Whatever."  
Stafford settled into his command chair and started tapping at the small console built into his armrest. Jeffrey had just gotten the damned thing hooked up this morning. He was trying to figure out how to adjust the lumbar support when there was a loud humming sound. Suddenly his command chair leaped off its pedestal and started swooping around the bridge. "What the hell's going on!" yelled Stafford as he held on tight.  
"Hey, why doesn't my chair fly?" asked Jall.  
"None of the bridge stations are SUPPOSED to fly,  
simpleton," stated Fifbee. "Simpleton?" asked Jall.  
"Yes. I am attempting to emulate the other crewmember's behavior by insulting you."  
"Don't give up the day job!"  
"Excuse me?" yelled Stafford. He was now hovering just below the transparent dome at the top of the bridge ceiling. He clung for dear life as the chair wobbled slightly. "Could somebody get me down if it's not TOO MUCH TROUBLE!"  
"Hold on!" said Jall. He rummaged beneath his console. "Found it!" He came up with a small hand phaser. He took quick aim then blasted the antigrav off Stafford's chair. Chair and captain came crashing down.  
"What the F**K is wrong with you?" Stafford shouted at Jall as he picked himself up off the floor. "We're in f**king Starfleet! We don't solve all our problems with phasers!"  
"Maybe we should! It's a hell of a lot more fun."  
Stafford stalked over to T'Parief's tactical console, grabbed T'Parief's phaser and shot Jall.  
"He's right. That was more fun."  
"Nice shot sir," said T'Parief.  
Fifebee was examining the remains of the antigrav.  
"I can determine nothing unusual. It's a standard antigrav,  
set to trigger when the chair's comfort level was changed," she said.  
"It was Lynch. It has to be."  
"Most likely," she replied, "evidently you did not teach them not to f**k with us."  
"Oh goody, now we have the Federation's first cussing hologram," muttered Stafford.  
"I aim to please, sir."  
"I'm going to Sickbay to have my head examined," said Stafford, immediately wishing he hadn't said anything. Silence. He looked around. "What? A golden opportunity and you're just going to let it pass by?"  
"Jall is unconscious sir," rumbled T'Parief, "Finally."  
"Oh. Right. Well, just leave him there."

Stafford walked into sickbay. Sickbay was actually in pretty good shape. Starfleet might have a lot of crackpot ideas about the Silverado but at least crew health was still a priority. He looked around for Dr. Wowryk and heard a faint muttering coming from her office.  
"Dr. Wowryk?" he asked? He found her kneeling in front of a small altar. The smell of incense filled the air and several candles were burning. She held up a hand to silence him. Once she had finished she blew out the candles and turned around.  
"Yes? What is it?' she said in a carefully measured tone. Stafford and Wowryk were trying to be civil to each other, despite their frequent arguments.  
"There was a small accident on the bridge." Stafford said.  
"A real accident, or a contest-of-the-male-ego accident?"  
she asked.  
"Part contest, part Jall."  
"I see," she started running a tricorder over Stafford, "You know that stupid joke on those engineers was really unprofessional. I hear one of them is still hiding in a closet."  
"They started it."  
"You should have ended it!" she said accusingly.  
"Well, we did."  
"Obviously not!" she closed the tricorder. "You're fine,  
other than a few bumps and bruises. Now I think you should comm Spacedock and apologize for your behavior before anything else happens!"  
"My behavior? Number one, THEY STARTED IT! Number two, I'm not the only one involved!" Stafford was getting worked up again, something that happened frequently around Noel.  
"And I can't believe you conned poor Ensign Dar'ugal into helping you! He's such a sweet guy! Do you know most Baruda are terrified of humans?"  
"Well he's not obviously" Stafford replied.  
"And what makes you say that?" Dr. Wowryk asked pointedly.  
"He joined Starfleet! We're 75% humans!"  
"Yeah, well...ARRGGHH! MEN!" Dr. Wowryk threw down her tricorder and retreated to her office.  
"I guess I'm done," muttered Stafford.

The next morning, (morning being relative in space) Spacedock slowly rotated as it passed out of Earth's shadow. Being an extremely massive station Spacedock actually orbited Earth at high speed every hour and spent about 25 minutes every hour completely hidden from direct sunlight.  
As Spacedock swung into the light passing spacecraft noticed a slight change in the stations appearance. A huge yellow arrow had been painted on the hull pointing towards the Caterpillar's docking pay. The words 'I'm with Pakled Posse' were crudely painted on the hull.

Stafford chuckled in his ready room as he read the news. Apparently a Pakled freighter had docked in the Caterpillar's bay while the construction ship had been on a job. The article showed an image of the Pakled ship jammed into the docking bay while an engineering team scrubbed the painted message off the stations hull. The article commented that there seemed to be a string of vandalism against Starfleet property. Hmm... Stafford thought to himself, I wonder who else was hit  
"S**T!"" he said out loud.  
"Bridge to Stafford," came Jall's voice, "We're being hailed."  
"Oh no..."  
Stafford stepped onto the bridge and straightened his uniform with the approved Starfleet maneuver. "On screen."  
"Stop preening yourself first," Jall said.  
"Just put them on."  
A laughing female voice came over the comm. "This is Ezri Dax. I was just passing by and I wanted to congratulate you on your new paint job. Very festive."  
"Uh, thanks, "said Stafford, feeling cold, "Silverado out."  
"Hey, I'm not-" Ezri was cut off.  
"Jall, patch in box dock sensors. Let's see the damage."  
Images from various cameras around the dock began to flash across the main screen. A huge happy face had been painted over the navigational deflector. A targeting reticule covered half the upper saucer with a bull's eye on the bridge. Splotches of colour splattered the secondary hull and the ship's name and registry had been changed to U.S.S. Shitbox. PU4-EVER.  
Stafford grabbed his padd and scrolled further through the article. Sure enough, there was the Silverado in all her painted glory.  
"Senior officers, report to the conference room."

"This cannot stand!" Stafford said. Noonan, Jall, Yanick,  
Jeffrey, Wowryk, Fifebee, T'Parief and even Zimmerman were crowded into the conference room.  
"Jeffrey, how long is it going to take to repaint?" Stafford asked.  
"Um, we can't repaint anything until the entire ship has been stripped down to bare hull metal. And ye said no cosmetic repairs until all the vitals are done. But I've got a team out there removing all the crap the Starbase engineers painted on." Jeffrey replied.  
"So you have a team out there, even though I ordered NO cosmetics?"  
"Um...Um..." Jeffery stammered.  
"No, it's OK, I was going to order that anyway. Good initiative."  
"Aye sir."  
"Next item: our supply shipment. Has that been tampered with in any way?'  
"No," said T'Parief, "Jeffrey and I have examined the shipment. All items are present, along with an unexpected bonus."  
"Really?" asked Yanick, "I love surprises!"  
"Really," said Jeffrey, "They had some leftover pulse phasers from a salvaged Defiant class ship. We got one of them in addition to the materials needed to bring our weapons systems to current Ambassador class standards as well as the primary replicator control core and new toilet seats."  
"Excellent."  
"It appears," said Fifebee, "that the engineers are not shirking any of their duties in regards to the Silverado. The two crews appear to be engaged in more of a contest of wits than anything else."  
"Wit? From this crew?" asked Zimmerman.  
"Ye stay out of this!" said Jeffrey.  
"Interesting observation Commander, "said Noonan, "but I believe out main concern is how to retaliate."  
"Indeed."  
"Ah overheard two of the guys mention a birthday party in the Paradise Lounge over on Spacedock," Jeffrey said.  
"That's our target," said Stafford, "Now we need a plan."  
"Exlax in the birthday cake?"  
"Yuck! I don't think so."  
"We could reverse the gravity on that deck," suggested Fifebee.  
"Commander!" snapped Zimmerman, "This is not the kind of activity you should be participating in!"  
"Loosen up you old prude!" shouted Jall.  
"How about this:" Noonan quickly outlined a plan.  
"Absolutely not!" shouted Zimmerman, "I will not allow this!"  
"Who asked you?" Jall started to whip out his phaser. T'Parief caught his wrist, grabbed the weapon and crushed it under his foot.  
"Thank you Mr. T'Parief, "Stafford said, "Dr. Zimmerman,  
your opinion has been noted and ignored. Go do something holographic. We'll take it from here."

Spacedock was pretty much shaped like a giant mushroom. The main shaft was topped by a large domed disc. A smaller but similarly shaped section bulged out halfway down the shaft. Finally the shaft was capped at the lower end by a small sphere. The ship docks themselves were primarily in the upper section along with repair facilities, station operations, restaurants, offices and the largest shopping deck in 30 sectors. The sphere at the bottom contained the power core and station engineering while the middle section was dedicated to the ships and engineers that serviced the various stations, platforms and docks orbiting the Earth including the old box dock assigned to Operation Salvage. The station had been expanded since the 23rd century to accommodate larger starships but the basic shape was unchanged. Paradise Lounge was a popular nightclub on the lower levels, frequented by various mechanics, engineers and space crane operators. It was laid out like a 1940's nightclub with dozens of small round tables surrounding a large stage and runway. Engineering team 17 had booked the lounge for Scott Stuw,  
space crane operator of the Caterpillar. Most of them were already halfway drunk and all of them were eager for the show to start. Rumor had it that Forman Lynch had booked the Risan Luv-Goddess for a special performance. The engineers quieted down as the spotlights came up on the stage and "Why Don't You Do Right" by Alan Silvestri started to play.  
A long, slender female leg emerged from behind the curtain and slowly stepped out onto the floor. A veiled woman eased out onto the stage. He dress was slitted to free her gorgeous leg. Her large breasts seemed barely contained in the strapless blue dress. Only her eyes were visible from behind the veil. She moved seductively to the music, singing in loud, clear voice.

Lyrics are protected by international copyright and have been omitted

She circled the birthday boy slowly, then gripped his table and leaned forward towards him giving the guy a clear view of her cleavage. A trickle of drool appeared at the corner of his mouth. She pushed away from the table and leapt back on stage as the music switched to a faster techno beat. She tore the dress off revealing, well, revealing a flattering bikini among other things. The engineers were all going wild. Cat calls and vulgar offers rang through the lounge as the 'Risan Luv-Goddess' finished her performance. The music died out and she walked slowly to the end of the walkway.  
"Are you boys ready for the big finale?" she asked in a low voice.  
Suddenly the lights came up full as the woman yanked the veil off her head revealing the huge, shriveled ears of an elderly Ferengi woman. Her entire body shimmered until it matched the wrinkled face and the bikini fluttered to the floor. The engineers gasped in horror.  
At that moment as the Spacedock techs were retching,  
gagging or vomiting, Jall, T'Parief, Jeffrey and Stafford ran into the room carrying several dozen small glass vials.  
"Happy birthday boys!" Stafford shouted, "Courtesy of the U.S.S Silverado!" The four officers started hurling the stink bombs to the floor and bolted out of the lounge followed closely by the hideous Ferengi woman. As soon as the doors snapped shut Jeffrey starting yanking out chips. The men trapped in the lounge started banging on the doors as the air grew heavy with the scent of rotten eggs and wet Tellarite.. "Excellent job Fifebee," Stafford said as she resumed her standard appearance, "I swear I didn't look."  
"Irrelevant. That was not my true appearance." "I was just being polite." "Much appreciated."  
"Ah don't know about you," said Jeffrey, "But ah think we better scram."  
They scrammed.

Back on the Silverado the crew was celebrating their first victory party. Jeffrey and Fifebee had rigged her holo-relay to project the image and furnishings of a 20th century pub complete with jukebox. Unfortunately the holo-relay was only intended to generate a single hologram, which meant that all the old lounge furniture was being used with the relay simply projecting a different appearance onto it. It also meant that Fifebee had to observe the party from the display screen on the side of the relay rather than in person.  
"Way to go Fifebee," slurred Stafford as he stumbled over to the emitter. He was drinking a syntheholic orange juice and vodka. "I think we really needed this. Morale this with help will."  
"Indeed," said Noonan. He was sipping at a glass of what looked like red wine. "It's a pity you cannot be with us right now."  
"I am quite all right here captain," said Fifebee, "I will more properly attend the next gathering."  
"Look it those two," said Jeffrey as he wandered over. He nodded at the corner of the lounge where a small dance floor had been set up. "They're getting awfully friendly." Jall, Yanick and T'Parief were indeed having a good time. Both had made several trips to the bar already. Jall and Yanick were doing pretty good on the dance floor but T'Parief had all the grace of an android. Yanick was pretty much ignoring Jall and trying to teach T'Parief how to dance without stumbling. Stafford grinned, finished his drink and walked to the bar. "Nice party Steven," he said.  
Steven looked over from where he was mixing drinks. "It looked like you guys needed it. Here, give this a try," he slid a triangular glass over.  
"What is it?" Stafford asked. Something that looked like an olive was floating in the glass.  
"Klingon martini," Steven said, "My own little invention."  
"Hmmm...I didn't know olives grew on the Quo'nos," "It's not an olive. It's a pickled targ testical."  
"Ewww," said Stafford, "synthoholic?  
"This one is."  
"Sweet!" Stafford took a sip of the drink. "Holy hell!" he shouted. He banged one fist against the bar, rattling glasses. "That's got a hell of a kick!"  
"You need a good kick!" said Dr. Wowryk as she walked over. "There are more wholesome ways to relax than sex, drugs and alcohol!"  
"Ahh!" said Stafford, "Of course. We have a party. Here is our designated pooper. First off, nobody's having sex. Yet. Second, nobody's doing any drugs. Third, this is synthohol, not alcohol."  
Wowryk glared at him and went to find Yanick. Yanick and T'Parief had retreated to a corner and were chatting casually. Well,  
Yanick was chatting. T'Parief was mostly just listening.  
"I haven't done this in forever!" Yanick was saying, "We had a big going away bash when we graduated from the Academy but the ship I was assigned to was no fun! Their idea of a good time was wine, cheese and classical music! That's boring! I tried to get them to try beer, but then they got sick. And then there was this time I showed up for my shift hung-over. I was working the night shift, and I hit the wrong button and crashed the ship into some diplomat guy's ship. That was when they reassigned me here..." she went on, and on.  
T'Parief found his vision starting to blur. Whatever he was drinking was starting to mess him up. He tried to focus on Yanick. She was amazing. He felt a pang of guilt at the way he had treated her after he arrived aboard Silverado. He had been stressed! Everybody had short tempers when they were stressed! Except Yanick. That friendly manner, that cheerful voice, those lovely legs..."  
"Stop looking at her like that!" snapped Dr. Wowryk as she arrived.  
"Like what? " asked Yanick, " I was in the middle of a story!"  
"Look at him! Typical male! Gazing into your eyes! You know he just wants to 'conquer your planet' before heading to the next 'star system'!" Wowryk was fuming now.  
"Huh?" asked T'Parief.  
"Noel, we're just talking! Trying to have a conversation,"  
Yanick said," Why don't you grab a drink and join us. You're getting upset over nothing!"  
"Maybe YOU are just talking! But you know all he really wants is sex! That's all any man cares about! WELL YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY FROM MY BEST FRIEND!" Noel snarled at T'Parief, "Not while I'm around!"  
"Noel, maybe you should go home and lie down," said Yanick.  
"Fine! Live in sin! See if I care!" Wowryk stormed out of the lounge knocking Jeffrey off his stool as she passed by.  
"Somebody's been into her sacramental wine again!" he giggled from the floor. "Barkeep! Another beer!"  
"I can't believe her!" Yanick pouted. "I mean, it's great that she cares and all, but it's MY life!"  
"Yes, yes it is," said T'Parief. He was starting to wobble.  
"She can't just barge in and tell me what to do! We've only known each other a couple weeks!"  
T'Parief passed out, crushing the table beneath him.  
Stafford and Jeffrey looked over at the source of the loud crash. T'Parief was sprawled out on the floor and Yanick was gently nudging his side with her foot. Apparently deciding he was out for the count she walked over towards them.  
"Lookit that!" she giggled, "I thought a boy his size would be able to hold his liquor! Heh heh...size," she giggled.  
"Eh," grunted Stafford, "I guess appearances can be deceiving." He looked at the dance floor where Jall and a couple other crewmembers were still dancing away. "Who would've thought Jall could go to a party without getting beat up?"  
"Yet" muttered Jeffrey. He belched. "Man, that Steve guy knows how to mix them! Where did you find him anyway?"  
"I dunno," replied Stafford, "After that prick from Guinanco left I just checked Earth's bartender listing and a name I random picked."  
"Huh?"  
"Picked a random name," Stafford shook his head, "I dunno what's in this stuff, but it sure is fun!"  
"You are all intoxicated," stated Fifebee's head from the holo-relay display.  
"Yes, yes we are!" shouted Jeffrey as he slammed down his drink and ran off to the dance floor.

Stafford awoke the next morning with a headache like he had never experienced before. He tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea knocked him right back down. He dimly recalled the end of the party, around 0400. Fifebee had shut down for the night since nobody was sober enough to return her to normal. It had taken Stafford, Jeffrey, Yanick and Noonan (all stumbling and giggling like idiots, except for Noonan) to drag T'Parief's heavy, muscled body back to his quarters. Yanick had stayed behind to make sure he was OK. At the time Stafford had thought that was incredibly sweet of her, but in retrospect he wasn't so sure. He didn't want to think about it really. Fortunately Ensign Dar'ugal had been able to stumble home on his own after being offered round after round of drinks.  
Stafford made the mental effort necessary to shrug off the effects of synthahol, tried to get up again and promptly fell right out of bed as the world spun around him. It wasn't working.  
"Wowryk to Stafford," came the voice of Dr. Wowryk.  
"Ugghhh..." groaned Stafford, "What do you want?"  
"Nice to hear you're paying the price for your fun."  
"Yes...nice...is that all?"  
"No," she said, "I think you better come down to sickbay.  
We have a small problem.

Stafford arrived in sickbay wearing his housecoat. He had bags under his eyes and looked about 15 years older than usual.. "What?"  
"Alcohol," said Dr. Wowryk as she scanned him.  
"Huh?"  
"What you guzzled down last night was not synthohol. It was alcohol. Most of the crew is feeling the effects. "  
"Entire crew?" asked Stafford, rubbing his eyes," What time is it?"  
"1300 hours," replied Wowryk.  
"WHAT?" moaned Stafford, "No! I had a meeting with Admiral Grant at 1000! How did this happen!"  
"That's your problem, "she said, "As much as I think you should all suffer for your sins Commander Noonan has convinced me to distribute hangover remedies and advise bed rest for all crewmembers." She injected him with a hypospray. The headache and nausea faded, but were still present.  
"Wow, that guy's a miracle worker," Stafford said, "How did he manage to talk you into doing your job without causing pain?"  
"He asked very nicely."  
"Figures."

It was the quietest staff meeting on Silverado that Stafford could recall. With the exception of Dr. Wowryk and Commander Noonan everybody wore the same dazed expression. Nobody was speaking above a whimper. A large pitcher of water had been set out on the conference table. Fifebee was still absent. Apparently Zimmerman was less than impressed with her recent behavior and they were having a 'talk'.  
"Why aren't you sick?" Stafford asked Noonan, "You must have drunk two bottles of wine!"  
"Um, yes, wine," Noonan replied, "it was from my own private supply and must not have been tampered with."  
"Oh. Well, thanks for taking care of the Admiral for me."  
"Don't mention it."  
"Well, I think that was fun!" said Ensign Yanick. She looked only slightly down.  
"Fun?" groaned Jall, "you'd do this again?"  
"Oh, I've done it before!"  
"In the name of the Directors why?" moaned Jeffery. He had his head resting on the table. T'Parief grunted his agreement.  
"Us farm girls know how to drink!" she replied.  
"I think we can all agree that we enjoyed the party if not the consequences," said Noonan. "What shall we do next?"  
"Nothing for the moment," said Stafford, "We're not getting anywhere. They smack us, we smack them back and they smack us again. We need to focus on getting out of dock so we can deliver the final punch and leave."  
"So basically," said Jall, "we're going to kick them in the shins and run away?"  
"That's the plan."  
"It is cowardly," muttered T'Parief. He was sprawled facedown on the floor, "But I don't care."  
"Are we sure they're responsible for this anyway?" asked Jeffrey.  
"Oh yeah," said Stafford, "I talked to Steven on the way here. He showed me the bottles from last night. He had ordered enough synthohol to last until the replicators start working but somebody had emptied the bottles and refilled them with the alcoholic versions. Guess who has access to our shipments other than us?"  
"Too much talk...more sleep," muttered Jall. T'Parief was already snoring.

Stafford walked carefully back to his quarters. He had left Noonan in charge of what repairs were continuing. As he left the turbolift and walked through the corridor he passed through a perfectly restored section with clean, silver sheeting and gleaming black panels then back into the scuffed, dingy corridor that was still the standard on the Silverado. Still, it was nice to know that improvement was possible.  
"Having a good time captain?" asked an unfamiliar voice.  
Stafford spun around. Garroth Lynch was standing behind him. "What do you want?" Stafford asked.  
"Oh, just looking out for your well-being. I'd hate to think that anybody was suffering...unpleasant...side effects." Garroth said with a smile.  
"We're managing just fine," growled Stafford.  
"Really," said Garroth, pretending to sound shocked,  
"haven't been all that many people up and about today. I wonder what could have happened?"  
"How's your nose doing there by the way?" Stafford asked,  
"Looks a bit red."  
"It's just fine," Garroth snapped, "You people are out of your league. Accept defeat and crawl away."  
"Don't count on it." Stafford walked into his quarters leaving Garroth alone in the corridor. Stafford had barely gotten comfortable when his door chimed. Well, tried to chime. It was more of a static filled buzz really.  
"Go away!"  
"Believe me, I'd like nothing better, but I need to speak with you first," came the voice of Dr. Zimmerman.  
"Fine, but make it quick."  
Zimmerman entered Stafford's quarters. Fifebee followed with her holo-relay in tow.  
"Jane and I have had a long talk regarding her behavior yesterday. I don't think her personality matrix is stable. She was strongly influenced by a personality in her databanks that had an affinity for Ferengi and so I have decided to terminate this experiment pending further study." Zimmerman said.  
"Oh you have. And what have you decided, Commander Fifebee?" Stafford asked.  
Fifebee just looked down.  
"Commander, I asked you a question." Stafford said.  
She looked up. "I would prefer to remain aboard."  
"That is unacceptable!" Zimmerman broke in, "These people are clearly influencing your personality profile in a manner that is,  
is, unacceptable!"  
"Oh really," said Stafford, "So you expect her to define her own personality then you object when she starts to show traces of individuality?"  
"Her behavior was inappropriate."  
"It wasn't her idea!"  
"She went along with it!"  
"Look, you told me this program was to see how sentient holograms integrate into society, right?" Stafford asked.  
"Yes."  
"Well, she's integrating. I say she stays." Stafford crossed his arms.  
"I don't think she should be 'integrating' with you people!"  
snapped Zimmerman.  
"Too damned bad! The key phrase here is 'sentient hologram'. You have no right to talk to her about holographic rights and getting her involved in our society and then try to yank that out from under her if you see a sign of independence! You're behaving more like her father than her creator!" Stafford was shouting now.  
"Well I am!" snapped Zimmerman, "I created her and do not want her turning into one of you!"  
Stafford looked at Zimmerman, "Too bad. She has reported for duty, I've accepted her under my command and she's a member of my crew. Starfleet may not be recognizing rights for all holograms yet, but they commissioned her and that gives her certain rights. You will transfer her program to Silverado as soon as our holographic memory core is online."  
"This isn't over!" snapped Zimmerman.  
"Maybe not. But if she wants to stay, she stays." Stafford sat back down, "If she's supposed to be a sentient hologram then let her make her own choice!"  
Zimmerman stormed out.  
"Thank you captain," Fifebee said quietly.  
"Don't mention it," Stafford rubbed his temples, "In fact,  
don't mention anything. I need a nap."  
"Understood. I'll be on the bridge."  
"Carry on."

"All right, we need to plan our next move carefully,"  
Stafford said the next day, "Timing is everything."  
"I thought we had given up," said Noonan. He was flat on his back underneath the replicator in the Captain's Mess trying to get the damned thing working. "Try it now?"  
"Chocolate milkshake," ordered Stafford. The replicator hummed, sputtered then splattered Stafford with chocolate smelling goop.  
"Hmm...not quite," muttered Noonan, "Perhaps the problem is in the materialization sub processor."  
"This stuff is COLD!" complained Stafford.  
"You should order a warm beverage this time," said Noonan,  
"I will then! Computer, hot chocolate!"  
This time the cup of hot chocolate had actually materialized before exploding all over Stafford. "Nope, try again. And no, we're not giving up. We've got to get them back and make sure we can finish this."  
"Any bright ideas?"  
"Yes, actually. Gimme that tricorder, then book us a travel pod."

Wearing nondescript civilian clothing, Noonan and Stafford had shuttled over to Spacedock's commercial levels then worked their way down. They shifted to Jeffries tubes along the way to avoid leaving a trail.  
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Stafford.  
"This trip was your idea, Captain," replied Noonan.  
"I meant the part about climbing down about 100 decks."  
"I am sure I can manage."  
"I'm not worried about you, I'm just not so sure about me!  
That's a long way down...and...and...I'm kinda scared of heights!"  
Noonan sighed. "We can go back if you wish."  
"No, let's just get this over with."  
They climbed down in silence for several minutes.  
"You really tried to get posted to the Secondprize?" asked Stafford.  
"I did. I also requested a posting on the Explorer, but they are not expected to return to Federation space for some time,"  
replied Noonan.  
"So why didn't they send you there?"  
"I'm not sure. I was told that my record was not suitable for a transfer to the Secondprize. But they would assign me here."  
"Do I need to worry about you jumping ship at the first opportunity?"  
"No. I have accepted this assignment and will fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities."  
"Great. How many more decks?"

Some time later the duo arrived on the target deck. Stafford was panting and sweating profusely while Noonan wasn't even breathing hard.  
They crept through another jeffries tube (a horizontal one,  
to Stafford's relief) until they reached a maintenance junction. "Gimme the tricorder," ordered Stafford.  
"Captain, this is a delicate adjustment. Perhaps I should do it," said Noonan.  
"I know what I'm doing! I was playing with toy circuits while you were still a drooling baby!"  
"I doubt that," muttered Noonan,  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
BZZZTTTT!  
Stafford jumped back as a spark jumped through the circuits. "OWWW!"  
"Captain, please be quiet."  
"I burnt my fing-"  
"What are you two doing?" asked a light, female voice, "I'm the only one assigned to maintenance here right now!"  
"I'm sorry Miss, we were just on our way," said Stafford.  
"Civilians are not allowed on this level. I'm going to have to report you," she replied.  
"Some help please!" Stafford muttered to Noonan.  
Noonan shuffled towards the woman and started speaking softly to her. Stafford couldn't make out what he was saying. "I understand. I will now leave," she muttered in a dazed voice before leaving the way she came.  
"What did you do to her?" Stafford demanded.  
"Light hypnosis," said Noonan.  
"Will she be OK?"  
"Of course. I would never harm a fellow officer."  
"Rrrrright," said Stafford, "You know, you are REALLY creepy sometimes."  
"I know. Let's get finished, shall we?"

The next morning Lynch and crew were filing into their mess hall for breakfast. They lined up at the replicators along the one wall and began placing orders. The meals materialized then promptly exploded. Lynch stood with the remnants of his bacon and eggs hanging off his face.  
"So he still wants to play, does he?"

"We're positive this thing is going to work?" Stafford asked Jeffrey.  
"Positive," Jeffrey replied.  
"100%?" "100%."  
"I dunno...I have a really bad idea about this," said Stafford.  
"And why is that sir?"  
"Mostly because of the sign over there that says 'Use at Own Risk'."  
"Oh, that's just there for legal reasons."  
Stafford and Jeffrey were in Transporter Room 1, the only transporter room onboard that had been renovated and repaired. Everything looked OK, but after his experience with the replicators Stafford was a bit nervous about the technology involved. Exploding people would be really messy.  
"All right, here we go," Jeffrey started tapping out commands on the console.  
"Run another diagnostic first," Stafford ordered.  
"Ah've already done 3!"  
"Just do it."  
"Aye sir. Everything checks out."  
"Very well," said Stafford, "Energize."  
Jeffrey slid his hands down the console. The transporter hummed and Admiral Grant appeared on the pad. Relieved,  
Stafford walked up to greet the admiral.  
"Admiral. Welcome to the Silverado." Stafford wasn't exactly happy to see the man who had stuck him with this ship, but knew better than to lip off a higher-ranking officer. "Captain," Grant said with his trademark false smile, "I'm eager to see what progress has been made. Especially after the...challenges that have come up."  
"This way please. I thought we'd start with engineering." Stafford led Grant through the ship, passing pristine, renovated corridors and grimy, scuffed corridors. Compartments where machinery hummed quietly, and compartments filled with useless junk. Grant could see that progress was being made, but that the process was far from complete. Stafford and Jeffrey kept up a running commentary.  
"And here you see technicians from Jupiter Station are installing a holographic memory core. And over there work is still proceeding on the phase inducers. We also have crews working throughout the ship replacing or cleaning components as well as shoring up structural weaknesses.  
"Very impressive captain. Have you got the paint off the hull yet?" asked the admiral.  
"We're still working on that."  
"You do that. The last thing Starfleet needs is another laughing stock."  
I bet thought Stafford. Any time now...  
"Anyway captain, if you'd escort me to the transporter room I'll be leaving...soon?" Admiral Grant trailed off as his voice began to rise in pitch.  
"What's going on?" Jeffrey panicked. His voice had gone up at least an octave.  
"Bridge, report!" Stafford squeaked.  
"Something's wrong with the airflow coming from the box dock!" squealed a voice, "We're being flooded with...helium?"  
"Lock down the flow! Switch us over to internal life support and start a purge!" Stafford had jumped in the nearest turbolift. Jeffrey and Grant followed him. He strode out onto the bridge, stopping briefly to marvel at the smooth ride this time around.  
"Hail Caterpillar," chirped Stafford.  
"Channel open," said T'Parief. The helium brought his voice up to human standard.  
"Lynch! What the hell have you done now?"  
Lynch appeared on screen. "Hey Captain. Sorry, I really can't think of who would have pulled this nasty prank on you. Very funny isn't it? You sound like a ship full of chipmunks!"  
"Look, you got us good with the paint, but this is ridiculous!"  
"The paint was sure fun. I think I should do that again sometime..."  
Admiral Grant sharpened up at this. 'So 'U.S.S. Shitbox' was YOUR idea?"  
"Yeah. Who the f**k are you?"  
"Admiral Grant!"  
"Sir!" Lynch stammered, "It's so good to see you. I hope you haven't been injured in this minor...malfunction."  
"Not at all!" grunted Grant. As the helium was filtered from the air his voice was returning to normal. "But your little stunt before caused us some very poor publicity, which I personally will have to answer for in front of President Dillon when he returns! Or at least I would have. I'm pleased to say that you can have that joy now! Now stop f**king around and finish up with this heap!"  
"Y-Yes sir! Lynch out!"  
"Thank you for handling that so well Admiral," said Stafford. "That will get him off our backs."  
"Shut up Stafford! I'm sure you had a part in this too!"  
barked Grant, "You may have given as good as you got but you've caused your share of problems too. Now get this ship running and get out of here!"  
"Aye sir."

Captain's Log: Stardate 56167.4 "Repairs getting are back on schedule. Our Spacedock crew has finished up their part of the job and moved on. I can't say we're really going to miss their charming personalities, but they sure did make things interesting. Dr. Zimmerman has completed the installation of our holographic memory core ahead of schedule and departed for Jupiter Station muttering something about 'insane power hungry tyrants'. Whatever. Nobody has had a chance yet to install any holo-emitters, so the holodecks are offline. Commander Fifebee's program has been transferred to our memory core but she will have to use her relay until Jeffrey has time to install a more permanent imaging system.  
That could take a while. "

Captain's Personal Log.  
"I'm still not happy with Starfleet's idea to transform a wreck into a ship of the line, but I'm becoming more hopeful that it can be done. The war against Lynch has actually been a huge help to moral, although I doubt he intended it that way. Maybe this assignment won't be that bad after all...

"Nice job with the helium by the way Mr. Noonan."  
Stafford commented.  
"Don't mention it sir."


	3. 3 - Ship of Dreams? - Part One

Star Traks: Silverado

1.3 - Ship of Dreams? - Part One

It was a beautiful day in Earth orbit. The Sun reflected brilliantly off the planet's blue oceans and white clouds. Spacedock spun slowly like a giant top. Workbees, shuttles and starships moved on complex flight paths. There wasn't a nebula cloud in sight.  
Not far from Spacedock an old box dock orbited. Cradled in it was an Ambassador-class ship. The hull gleamed. Umbilicals detached from the ship's smooth, shiny skin. Thruster ports ignited. The ship sailed smoothly out of dock. As the sun hit the saucer the words U.S.S. Silverado, NCC-135060 could be seen proudly displayed.  
There was a sudden burst of sparks from the ship's port warp nacelle. Electrical discharge danced across the hull. Thrusters began firing at random, sending the ship spiraling down toward the planet. A sudden series of explosions rippled across the saucer, shattering the ship's name and sending chunks of metal flying in all directions. The hull began to glow with the friction of atmospheric reentry.  
Just before the ship smashed into the middle of North America there was a sudden, blinding flash of light. The ship's engineering hull broke apart spreading pure engine-grade antimatter across the continent. As the antimatter hit the atmosphere it reacted with the regular matter particles creating an explosion of incredible fury.  
North America disappeared into the firestorm. Shock waves rippled across the globe. Tsunamis washed islands and coastlines away. Earth trembled in it's death throes.

Captain Christopher Stafford bolted up out of bed.  
"Bridge! Status report! STATUS REPORT!" he yelled.  
"Nothing to report," came the tired voice from the bridge.  
"Nothing?"  
"Nothing."  
"Um, is Earth still there?"  
"Yes, of course it's still f**king there!" came the now tired and annoyed voice, "Who the hell is this anyway?"  
Stafford closed the channel. Wow, what an awful dream. He'd had nightmares before but nothing this bad! His ship destroying the world. He was still breathing heavily as he walked over to the replicator.  
"Milk, warm," he commanded.  
The replicator sputtered. Nothing appeared on the pad.  
"Milk, warm, PLEASE!" he said.  
The replicator sputtered again. This time a glass of milk materialized. Like so many things aboard ship the replicator systems had finally been repaired. Unfortunately, the repairs had been rushed and many systems were not completely up to Starfleet standard. The computer's personality programming had only started making matters worse after somehow getting mixed up with the personality profile of Stafford's mother. Stafford wasn't sure how the hell THAT had happened, but suspected Jall had managed it somehow. As much as Stafford loved his dear, sweet mommy he had to admit that he wouldn't want her running his ship. Fortunately the symptoms were very minor, such as replicators insisting that they be treated with respect and nagging him to make sure to recycle the dishes. Stafford finished his milk, placed the mug in the replicator and hit the "reclaim" button.  
"Anything else honey?" asked the computer.  
"No thanks mo-, um, computer," mumbled Stafford as he wandered back to bed.

The next morning Stafford walked into Engineering rubbing his eyes. The place was empty. All the midget engineers were scattered throughout the ship repairing and upgrading systems. The warp core stood idle at the far end of the compartment. The walls and ceiling had been scrubbed back to their original pristine condition. The master systems display was showing a graphic display of the ship. Two weeks ago the display had been lit up like a Christmas tree with errors and warning icons. (Two weeks and one day ago it had been a shattered ruin.) The number of major problems on the board had dropped considerably, but there were still minor malfunctions and glitches plaguing the ship.  
"Looks like the cleaning crew was in here," Stafford commented as he stepped into Jeffrey's office. Jeffrey made no reply. He was too busy drooling over a padd he must have been reading before he fell asleep. Jeffrey moaned. His legs started twitching.  
"WAKE UP!" shouted Stafford. Jeffrey bolted awake.  
"AHHH!"  
"Bad dream?" asked Stafford.  
"Oy, what happened? What time is it?" stammered Jeffery.  
"0800h," said Stafford, "How late were you working in here?"  
"Oh, it wasn't that late. Y'know, Ah was having this terrible dream-"  
"How late?" Stafford demanded.  
"Um, about 0500h sir."  
Stafford sighed. "Look, Simon, we've had this talk. As much as I admire your hard work, you need to get SOME sleep! The last thing we need is to blow up because you forgot to seal a plasma conduit or something!" Stafford shuddered, remembering his nightmare, "That's the LAST thing we need."  
"Ah understand that sir," said Jeffery, "But we're supposed to launch in 3 days! Ah have to have her ready to go! There's too much to do! We still have to finish getting that dent out of the navigational defle-"  
"Aren't your engineers doing that this afternoon?" Stafford cut him off.  
"Aye, but-"  
"And do they REALLY need you hovering, well, towering over them the whole time?"  
"Well, no, but-"  
"Beat it. Scram. Go to bed. If I see you on duty before 1600 I'm going to kick your ass!" Stafford walked out of Jeffery's office and out of Engineering. "End of discussion!" he called back over his shoulder.

Jeffery stumbled back to his quarters. Truth be told he was exhausted. He'd barely been sleeping for the past 2 days. The nightmares he'd been having had been too intense for any restful sleep. As he approached his quarters he passed T'Parief, who was on his way to the bridge.  
"Morning big guy," said Jeffery as he passed by. The large lizard-like officer grunted a greeting and continued walking.  
"Jackass," muttered Jeffery. He entered his quarters without bothering to call for lights. There was nothing to see. His possessions were still in Cargo Bay 3. The walls, floor and ceiling of his quarters were still filthy and his bathroom mirror was shattered. He hadn't had the chance to have his quarters renovated yet.  
Jeffery climbed in to bed and tried to sleep.

Ensign Yanick was sitting in the main mess hall on the starboard side of Silverado's saucer when Captain Stafford walked in carrying a tray and looking slightly haggard.  
"Morning Captain, gonna have breakfast with me?" she asked with a smile.  
"Sure, why not," he said.  
"So whatcha doing down here?" asked Yanick, "I thought captains had their own place to eat. I never saw my last captain at mealtimes. He always locked himself in there."  
"It was too quiet," said Stafford, "I needed some company and some conversation."  
"Well, you sure came to the right place! You look pretty tired. Trouble sleeping?"  
"Yes actually. I was having nightmares last night. I feel like I spent the night at a Klingon dance club."  
Yanick giggled. "That would be a nightmare! I've been sleeping like a baby every since Jall fixed up my quarters."  
"So what's new?" asked Stafford as he picked at his cereal.  
"Well, we've got the torque sensors realigned, and the inertial dampening field is finally reacting properly to helm commands, so next time we take her out we should have a much smoother ride. Oh, and I think T'Parief's been avoiding me."  
It took Stafford a moment to register what she had just said. "Huh?"  
"T'Parief," Yanick said, "Y'know, he seemed all interested at the party last week. And he thanked me for watching over him...y'know, to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit or something, but now anytime I try to talk to him he has something else to do."  
"Um, well, we have been busy," said Stafford. Why the hell was his helm officer engaging him in girl-talk? That's what the ships counselor was for. Uh-oh Stafford thought to himself, Counselor? S**T! I KNEW I forgot something!  
"Yeah," said Yanick, "But he could at least talk to me!"  
"Um, yes, yes he could. That's not very nice of him at all," Stafford desperately thought of a different subject. "So, uh, your personnel file shows you grew up on a farm. How was that?"  
"Oh, it was great!" said Yanick, "We had cattle, and a couple horses. My brothers played hockey a lot too. My cow's name was Betsy..."  
Stafford spooned soggy cereal into his mouth and tried to nod in all the right places as Yanick went on, and on.  
"-oh! And did you hear?" Yanick was saying, "Steven got the poll back from the crew. He's naming the lounge 'Unbalanced Equations'. I guess he got the idea when he was taking Commander Jeffrey a late night snack. Something about the warp field equations. Anyway, it was either that, or 'Ghosttown Grill', but he thought that would scare away business. He's doing the decorating now, and wants to open the place up officially tomorrow. "  
"Uh-huh," muttered Stafford. He heard a cool voice from behind him.  
"Good morning Captain," said Dr. Wowryk, "I hope you're being a gentleman this morning."  
"Oh stop worrying Noel!" said Yanick with a giggle, "The captain and I were having a nice morning chat."  
"Uh-huh." Wowryk sat down and set her fruit cup down on the table. "So what's so interesting?"  
"Well," started Yanick.  
Oh-no thought Stafford, Here we go again...

After excusing himself from Wowryk and Yanick, Stafford rode the turbolift up to the bridge. As usual, Noonan was already there. He was looking especially pale this morning.  
"Report, Commander," Stafford ordered.  
"Not much new since last night, " Noonan said in his smooth voice, "Work continues on the deflector grid. We are expected to have phasers online before lunch. Mr. T'Parief is working on the forward torpedo launchers as we speak. And we finally removed the happy-face from the navigational deflector."  
"Great. Keep it up. I'll be in my ready room."  
"As you wish."

Jeffrey was walking along the corridor to Engineering. As he turned the final corner he came face to face with a huge man in a kilt. A HUGE man. With flaming red hair and a reddened face.  
"C'mere wee lad!" shouted the behemoth in an accent even thicker than Jeffery's, "Ah've got a surprise for ye!"  
The man grabbed Jeffery by the neck and strapped his arms and legs onto a metal rack, pointing them up like four fingers on a hand. He stabbed a long tube into Jeffery's chest and started blowing. Jeffery expanded like a balloon. The man plugged his fingers into Jefferies eyes, nose and mouth and squeezed his inflated torso. Jeffery made a tortured squealing sound as the man continued to pump and blow. He started pressing his fat fingers against Jeffery's face.  
Simon Jeffery had become a set of human bagpipes!

"AHHHH!" screamed Jeffery as he jumped up out of bed. "Sweet Mother of God!" He flung his bed sheets away and tumbled to the floor. He collapsed, trembling in a corner.

Stafford was sitting back in his ready room when the door chimed.  
"Yeah?"  
Lieutenant Jall walked in.  
"What do you want?" asked Stafford.  
"Well, I found a small problem that you should probably know about," said Jall, "but if you're too busy I'll just keep it to myself."  
"What is it?"  
"What is what?"  
"THE PROBLEM?" shouted Stafford.  
"Well if you really want to know," said Jall, "somebody f**ked up."  
"Other than you?" asked Stafford.  
"Yes, other than me!" snapped Jall. "You know how Starfleet picked a corridor design scheme for the late model Constitution-class and the Excelsior-class, and then stuck with the same damned thing until they launched the Intrepid-class?"  
"Yes," said Stafford warily, "I don't like where you're going with this."  
"Yeah well, somebody evidently couldn't make up their minds," chuckled Jall, "Because all the odd numbered decks are being renovated with Intrepid style décor, while all the even numbered decks use the older style."  
Stafford let his forehead fall onto his desk with a 'thunk'. "Please tell me you're joking," came his muffled voice.  
"Nope," said Jall, "Although it's weird that nobody noticed it until now. We've been on this ship almost 3 weeks."  
"No," said Stafford tiredly, "that's exactly why it's NOT weird. Stafford to Jeffery!"  
Silence.  
"Jeffery! What the hell is going on with our corridors?"  
More silence.  
"Computer! Locate Lieutenant Commander Jeffery!"  
"Don't take that tone of voice with me young man!" barked the computer.  
"Oh for the love of Benji!" yelled Stafford. He forced himself under control. "Computer, please locate Lieutenant Commander Jeffery."  
"Lieutenant Commander Jeffery is in his quarters."  
"What's he doing?"  
"I don't know!" said the computer peevishly; "I don't have eyes in the back of my head!"  
Stafford and Jall exchanged glances.  
"Rrright..." said Jall.

Stafford arrived at Jeffery's quarters alone. He had sent Jall to work on the ODN network on deck 6.  
"Simon?" Stafford rang the bell. "You in there?"  
No response.  
Stafford tapped in his command override, hesitating briefly as he recalled the last time he had entered an officer's quarters uninvited. With a shudder he stepped inside.  
"Jeffery?"  
Stafford found Jeffery collapsed in the corner, breathing shallowly. His eyes were fluttering. Stafford slapped his commbadge.  
"Stafford to Sickbay, medical emergency! Deck 3, officer's quarters!"

Dr. Wowryk ran her medical tricorder over Jeffery.  
"He's in shock!" she reported, "I'm picking up lots of neural activity."  
"Can you wake him?" Stafford asked urgently.  
"Should be able to," answered Wowryk. She loaded a hypospray and injected Jeffery. His eyes shot open"  
"GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!" he shouted hoarsely.  
"Simon!" snapped Stafford, shaking his friend by the shoulders, "Snap out of it!"  
Jeffery slowly relaxed and looked up at Stafford. "Chris? Oh man, what a nightmare!'

Shortly afterward in Sickbay, Dr. Wowryk had Jeffery on the main diagnostic bed and was studying the readouts on the wall-mounted display panel.  
"As you can see, neurotransmitter levels were elevated here, and here. This caused an increase in adrenaline and-"  
"English please Doc!" interrupted Stafford. "Some of us don't know squat about whatever the hell it is you're babbling about!"  
"Argh!" growled Wowryk, "I didn't see you interrupting Fifebee when she was going on about lateral sensor calibrations!"  
"Please leave me out of this," muttered Fifebee. She was assisting Wowryk in analyzing the readings from Jeffery.  
"So what's the deal?" asked Stafford.  
"I'm not sure," said Wowryk. "From what Jeffery has told me he had a nightmare about being used as bagpipes. He woke up; fell out of bed, then fell back into the nightmare. Then you barged in like the 'big strong man' you are and called me to his rescue."  
"Is he going to be all right?"  
"I think so. I need to analyze this data further, but I've given him nice cup of tea. I will be contacting Starfleet Medical since we're still in orbit. I suggest you put him on duty, I doubt he'll be getting any sleep anytime soon."  
"Suggestion noted Doctor," Stafford said dryly, "Scram."  
"I beg your pardon?" asked Wowryk, looking down her nose.  
"Just give me a minute, OK?"  
"Fine!" she walked into her office.  
Stafford sat by Jeffery. "How ya doing bud?" he asked.  
"Oy," said Jeffery as he sat up, "Ah just don't want to think about it. Y'know how most of the time, when you're dreaming, you can force yourself awake? Kinda like dragging yourself out of the water. Well, imagine having something yank ye back under."  
"I bet," said Stafford. There was an awkward silence. "Did you know that the corridors on the different decks don't match?"  
Jeffery collapsed back onto the biobed.

Noonan was heading down to check on T'Parief's progress on the forward torpedo launcher. He smiled and nodded at Ensign Dar'ugal as he passed by. Dar'ugal gave a nervous little wave and nodded. At least Noonan thought he nodded. It was really hard to tell, since Dar'ugal didn't have a head like most humanoids. There were such interesting people on this ship. Noonan was enjoying the chance to sit back and watch the interactions.  
"And how goes the work Lieutenant?" Noonan asked as he stepped into the torpedo bay and saw a pair of legs sticking out from an access hatch. T'Parief jerked his head up at the sound, crashing it into a conduit with a loud 'CLANG!' and a roar.  
"Greeznek!" shouted T'Parief. "That hurt like a blartch!"  
"Excuse me?" asked Noonan, hiding a small grin.  
"I scraped my cranial ridges!" complained T'Parief in his low, low voice, "Do you have any idea how much that stings?"  
"I thought Klingons and Andorians were raised to deal with pain," said Noonan  
"So are the Gorn, but I still hate it!"  
"I see."  
"Commander, I can take pain. But I don't have to like it!" T'Parief said with a slight snarl.  
"I'm sure you can. Wow, the people on this ship need to relax more," said Noonan, "They'll live longer."  
T'Parief rubbed his head again before going back to work. "I have been on edge lately. I do not know why, nor do I wish to discuss it."  
"OK," said Noonan, "how's the work going?"  
"It goes. Weapons systems will be online before we launch."  
"Wow," said Noonan, "only a couple days left. I'm looking forward to it."  
"Great," muttered T'Parief. "Is there anything else you need?"  
"Um, no. I guess I shall be going now."  
"Close the door behind you."

Noonan stepped into Stafford's ready room and was greeted with the sound of loud orchestral music.  
"BAAAAAAAAA! Bum-BAAAAA, Ba-dum-bum!..."  
"Beethoven?" he asked as the doors closed.  
"Bugs Bunny," said Stafford. He turned his terminal around to reveal an animated grey and white cartoon rabbit in a yellow tuxedo. It appeared to be conducting an orchestra.  
Noonan laughed hysterically as they watched the rabbit conducted himself into frenzy as he tried to catch a fly buzzing around his head.  
"That's incredible!" he forced out, "What's it called?"  
"Looney Tunes," Stafford said with a grin. "I was looking up some 21st century entertainment after our little...trip. I needed a good laugh today. I'm thinking of having a 'Cartoon Night' down in the lounge... everybody's been stressed, but lately they've been getting really weird. Like Jeffery's little nightmare. Fifebee says that members of her staff have been jumping at shadows. Hey, are you listening to me?"  
Noonan jerked his head away from the screen. "Hmmm? Oh, yes. Crew not happy. Car tuning night. I would definitely attend. Incidentally, Mr. T'Parief was even less talkative than normal when I checked up on him."  
"He doesn't count," Stafford said, "Nobody knows what's going through his head on a good day anyway.  
"Wowryk to Stafford," came the crisp voice over the comm, "Please come down to Sickbay, I have news on Jeffery's condition."  
"I'm busy right now Doctor," said Stafford, annoyed, "bring your findings up here."  
"Why? They're all displayed down here!"  
"So? I have a screen too! Besides, I outrank you. Get your butt up here."  
"Fine!" Wowryk barked and closed the channel.  
"There," said Stafford, "You just have to put your foot down with her."  
"I don't agree," said Noonan. His eyes were still glued to the screen. "She has a strong will. She could put up an impressive fight if she wanted to."  
"Then why doesn't she?"  
"I don't know," Noonan narrowed his eyes as he thought, "most likely she considers you as being unworthy of her attention and so she refuses to waste her energy."  
"Thanks a lot," replied Stafford.  
As they were talking, the rabbit's cufflinks had somehow starting migrating across his body. To his visible annoyance, his every effort to move them resulted in the orchestra responding to his motions. He took advantage of a particularly impressive musical opening to kick his legs up into the air. The cufflinks sailed up then dropped perfectly onto his uplifted arms. Noonan and Stafford broke into fits of giggles.  
"Nice to see the senior officers are taking care of such important matters," said Dr. Wowryk as she entered the room.  
Stafford quickly hit the 'stop' button on his terminal. "Um, what's up Doc?" he asked. Noonan giggled.  
After taking a quick moment to glare daggers at the both of them, Wowryk tossed her padd into Stafford's lap, electing a short gasp of pain.  
"Look at those brain scans," she said, "the hippocampus is showing a 25% greater activity, and the brain wave patters are-"  
"Look, Doc, haven't we been over this?" Stafford growled, "I don't know what you're talking about!"  
"I know," replied Wowryk, "I just enjoy making you ask me to dumb it down for you."  
There was silence.  
Stafford sighed. "OK, fine! Translate please."  
"This isn't natural. Something is causing it."  
"Oh. That's really not good!"

"So long story short, something cased Jeffery to become trapped in his nightmare," Stafford was saying, "Fifebee, what else do you have?"  
The petite, pale, dark haired holographic officer stood up. "I have run all possible standard scans on the ship, although I am somewhat hampered by the fact that only 76% of the ship's internal sensors are functional. There has been no report of any unusual dream states from Earth or Spacedock."  
"We're right at the heart of the Federation!" said Jall, "Why are we worrying about this? Earth is full of specialists and brains far more qualified that these quacks!"  
Fifebee and Wowryk glared at Jall.  
"I attempted to contact Starfleet for assistance. Their response was, and I quote, 'go 'way son, you bother me'."  
"This problem isn't limited to nightmares," interjected Noonan, "People have been on edge, bordering on paranoid. About 10 minutes ago I saw Ensign Sage use a phaser welder to kill a fly."  
"Nice," muttered Jeffery as he rolled his eyes, "so now Ah probably have even more repairs to handle. What's our plan?"  
"We need to stay focused," said Stafford, "launch is less than 2 days away and we can NOT afford to fail on this one. Fifebee, keep running scans. T'Parief, I want you helping her. Look for anything suspicious. Alert the crew that we are going to triple shifts immediately. Nobody sleeps until we're out of here. Jeffery, you need to keep everybody busy."  
"No problem there."  
"Are you crazy?' asked Wowryk, "you can't do that!"  
"Dismissed. Doctor, stay behind."  
The other officers filed out of the conference room. Jeffery turned to Stafford long enough to make the throat-slashing gesture. Wowryk stayed behind.  
"You are purposefully endangering the lives of your crew!" she snarled.  
"I am doing no such thing! Lack of sleep never killed anybody," Stafford replied coldly.  
"This is a dangerous situation! Something is affecting the health of YOUR crew, and you are doing nothing about it!"  
Stafford slammed his fist into the table. "STARFLEET is doing nothing about it! We're not important enough in their books for them to worry about! We're doing what we can, but the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can focus on taking care of this thing!"  
"I think you've misplaced your priorities, captain!"  
"Your opinion is noted Doctor. And if you EVER question me in that manner in front of the senior staff again, I'll baptize you in open space, so help me!"

Captain's Log, Stardate 56174.8  
"Work is progressing really well on this ship. We may even have her capable of launch ahead of schedule. Of course, the fact that everybody is too scared to sleep and spent the whole night doing repair work really helped. Tempers are rising, crewmembers are squabbling and paranoia is running rampant."  
"Hmmm, doesn't sound like much has changed..."

T'Parief awoke slowly. He realized he was lying on a soft mattress and mentally cursed himself for weakening long enough to pass out. Then he became aware that he wasn't alone. Somebody was snuggled up next to him. Opening his eyes, he saw long blond hair. Trish Yanick opened her eyes and smiled at him.  
"Morning, handsome," she said.  
T'Parief felt a slow smile coming on, "Good morning." Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and a voice behind him spoke up,  
"I was good, wasn't I?"  
T'Parief rolled over to find himself face to face with Lieutenant San Jall  
"AHHHHHHH!" roared T'Parief.  
"AHHHHHHH!" screamed Jall.  
"EWWWWWW!" squealed Yanick.  
"GRISNAR!" hollered T'Parief, "Son of a blartch!" Please, tell me, we didn't-"  
"I don't know!" wailed Jall, "I-I-I don't think so!"  
"You better hope for your sake that we did not!"  
"What the f**k is wrong with you, you PERVERT!" screamed Yanick," Hasn't anybody ever told you that THREE IS A CROWD?"  
"Hey," shouted Jall, "it wasn't MY idea to wake up next to a walking lizard and his blond bimbo!"  
"I am NOT a bimbo" shrieked Yanick. She started tossing knick-knacks off the nightstand at Jall. "You take that back!"  
"Yes," growled T'Parief as he wrapped a clawed hand around Jall's throat, "take it back."  
"I take it back! I take it back! Just please, don't hurt me!"

"Captain, you better get out here," came the voice of Lieutenant Fifebee, "T'Parief and Yanick are unconscious!"  
Stafford bolted out of his ready room onto the bridge. Dr. Wowryk was just stepping out of the turbolift. He felt a sudden jolt of fear as he saw her and took and involuntary step back. T'Parief and Yanick were both slumped over their consoles. T'Parief was twitching slightly and soft growls were escaping his blunt snout.  
"Can you wake them?" he asked.  
"I am not sure," said Fifebee, "they are more seriously affected than Jeffery was." She pressed a hypo into T'Parief's shoulder. Nothing happened.  
Suddenly he bolted awake and pounced on Fifebee, knocking her to the deck. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" he bellowed in rage.  
"Lieutenant T'Parief," snapped Fifebee, "you are destabilizing my force fields."  
T'Parief looked around and realized he was on the bridge.  
"Sorry Lieutenant," he said as he climbed to his feet.  
"Be grateful you did not try that on the captain," she replied, "you would have broken four ribs, punctured his lung and shattered his pelvis."  
"Thanks for that pretty picture," muttered Stafford.  
Yanick suddenly shot awake at the helm.  
"Get him away from me! Get away!" She looked around.  
"Oh my God, that was awful!" she wailed.  
Dr. Wowryk ran over to her.  
"It's OK Trish, I'm here to help you," she said reassuringly.  
"Noel, it was awful," Trish said through her tears, "It was T'Parief. We were in bed together-"  
"You PIG!" snarled Wowryk at T'Parief. She turned back to Yanick and put her arm around the other woman's shoulders, "It's OK. I know you're feeling violated and used, but it will be OK. It was only a dream."  
"You don't understand!" cried Yanick, "Jall was there too!"  
Wowryk's mouth opened and closed as though she was trying to speak. Her eyes rolled into her head and she passed out.  
"Man," said Stafford, "I sure wish I had a camera! I could watch that over and over again..."  
"Strange," said T'Parief, "I had the exact same dream. Nightmare, really."  
"What? Describe the dreams to me." said Fifebee. She stood from where she had just finished pressing a hypo against Dr. Wowryk. She scanned Trish, then walked over and scanned T'Parief as they told their tales.  
"This is disturbing," she said, "you both have identical disruptions to your neurochemistry.  
"Is that bad?" asked Stafford.  
"Very," said Fifebee. There have been documented cases of dreams being shared among members of many different races. It is most common among Betazoids, but can occur in other species as well. However, it does not usually occur across those of different species. T'Parief and Yanick should NOT be having the same dream in this fashion. "  
"Could it be a coincidence?" asked Stafford.  
"Yes," said Fifebee. "Logic suggests that we find Lieutenant Jall and determine whether or not he also shared the dream."  
"You're sounding really Vulcan lately, you know that?"  
"Yes. The Vulcan scientist in my database has been very prominent as of late."  
"Ah."

Captain's Log, Supplemental  
"We've confirmed that Lieutenant Jall shared the same dream as T'Parief and Yanick. After several hours locked in Sickbay, Dr. Wowryk and Lieutenant Fifebee emerged to inform me that this has horrible implications, something about we could all be influenced by whatever is doing this and that it could do something bad to our brainwaves. Whatever. If Starfleet doesn't care, it can't be too bad. Anyway, I've called another meeting."

"Get it away from me! Get it away!" hollered T'Parief. He was standing on the conference room table as Yanick and Jeffery chased 'it' around the floor.  
"It's just a little mouse, you big baby!" Jall said with just a hint of annoyance.  
"How the hell can we have mice on a starship anyway?" snapped Stafford.  
"The same way we can have Vulcan ants, Rigellian zorniks and Albarian eels," called Jeffery, "the ship was infested!"  
"I got him!" yelled Yanick triumphantly. She held up the tiny mouse by its tail.  
"That's it?" asked Jall. He walked over to Yanick and took the mouse from her.  
"He's so cute!" said Jall, "Don't you think so big guy?" He dangled the mouse in front of T'Parief, who scurried back off the table and fell to the floor with a loud crash.  
"Mr. T'Parief has just proven a very interesting point," said Fifebee, "the level of tension is increasing. I doubt a rodent would bother him on a normal day."  
"Um, yeah," said T'Parief as he picked himself up, "of course not."  
"Stop sounding so Vulcan!" Stafford snapped, "You sound like...hey...your ears are pointed!"  
Indeed Fifebee's ears had begun to develop a slight point, and her eyebrows were beginning to rise on the outer edges  
"Hmm?" she felt her ears, "How strange." Her eyelids fluttered briefly and her appearance returned to normal. "I've repressed the Vulcan personality," she said with a much more relaxed air, "he was getting pretty boring anyway."  
"Rrriiight," said Stafford, "so, any new ideas?"  
"I have detected some sort of small spatial anomaly. It seems to be limited to the ship only. I don't know what's causing it; only that it's getting stronger. If it gets strong enough I should be able to pinpoint the source."  
"That would be good," said Jeffery.  
"Oh yeah," said Stafford, " anything else from Starfleet?"  
"They suggested I investigate the anesthazine gas systems."  
There was a pause.  
"And did you?" asked Noonan.  
"Of course I did!" she said peevishly, "I'm not Lieutenant Jall you know!"  
"Good point."  
"Hey!" snapped Jall, "I resent that!"  
"Whatever," said Stafford, "How long until you can pinpoint the anomaly?"  
"At least 48 hours."  
"Fine. So we last for two more days. Wowryk, start distributing stimulants. Stafford to Steven!"  
"Yeah, what?" came the voice of the Silverado's lounge manager.  
"Fire up your espresso machine," Stafford ordered, "It's gong to be a long night."

"Yuck," winced Stafford, "this stuff tastes AWFUL!"  
"Tastes like cappuccino to me," said Yanick as she took a sip from her own mug.  
"Maybe that's half the problem," muttered Stafford.  
Stafford, Yanick and Noonan were sitting in the big comfy chairs in Unbalanced Equations looking out the large windows that faced out between the ship's massive nacelles. Jeffery had developed a sudden fear of crowds and banished all his would-be helpers from assisting him with the final repairs. All the major repairs had been completed with the exception of cosmetic repairs. Still, there were enough glitches and upgrades left to last for a good long while.  
Noonan was sipping a glass of red wine.  
"Is that such a good idea?" asked Stafford, "that stuff can make you drowsy if you drink too much."  
"I'm only having two glasses."  
"Steven!" called Stafford, "Do you have anything with caffeine in it that actually tastes good?"  
Steven walked over carrying a frosted glass. "Here," he said, "try this."  
Stafford took a sip. ENERGY! He felt a sudden surge in power! His leg began to jitter and his head twitched around like a nervous squirrel.  
"Wow," he said, "what the hell is that stuff?"  
"Jolt Cola," replied Steven.  
"Keep them coming. There's still another 8 hours before we launch."  
Dr. Wowryk walked in and sat down next to Yanick. Stafford felt a sudden jolt of fear and jerked away from her.  
"What was that?" asked Yanick with a giggle.  
"Um, I dunno," said Stafford. He looked at Wowryk, and  
shuddered.  
"I think the captain may have developed an irrational fear of his own," stated Noonan.  
"No, I'm not scared of her!" said Stafford.  
"Really?" said Wowryk. She leaned close towards him. He shrank back into his chair.  
"OK," Stafford said in a small voice, "Maybe a little."  
"Oh, this is too good to be true," said Wowryk with a big grin. She started poking at Stafford, who jumped out of his chair.  
"Cut it out!" he yelled.  
"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Wowryk as she chased him around the table, "Divine justice is served!" She chased Stafford for a few more minutes.  
'Well, my break is over," she said, "time to get back to Sickbay. Thank you so much for that, Captain!"  
As she departed Nurse Kerry stepped in. "Anybody snoozing?" she asked.  
Stafford watched as she walked over to a young female ensign who had passed out on a couch and injected a hypo into her neck. The ensign jumped up and started screaming.  
"Bugs! Bugs! Get them off of me! They're in my hair!"  
Nurse Kerry managed to calm the frightened ensign down. She checked for any other sleepyheads and started to head out. Stafford intercepted her.  
"How's it going?" he asked.  
"Not good," she replied, "people are wearing out. They've been stressed as it is. It's taking larger and larger doses of stimulant to wake them up to. Sooner or later the stimulants will lose their effect."  
"Thank you Nurse," said Stafford, "carry on."  
He turned to Steven.  
"We need something to pass the time and keep everybody awake," he said, "did you install the holoprojector I asked for?"  
"Yeah, I did," answered Steven, "and I've got over 500 hours of Loony Tunes, Tiny Toons and Animaniacs waiting for you."  
"As much fun as that sounds, I've got something different in  
mind."

Six hours later, after enduring Friday the 13th, 28 Days Later and The Ring, sleep was the last thing everybody in Unbalanced Equations was thinking of.  
As the movie ended, Stafford gulped the last of his Jolt and tossed the empty glass over his shoulder onto the large pile behind him. Releasing a loud belch he walked (jittered) over to the counter.  
"S-S-SStill two hours to go," he said as he drummed his fingers on the counter, "what do we have left?"  
"This was a really bad idea you know!" Dr. Wowryk said quietly behind him. Stafford jumped and took several steps back. Dr. Wowryk had come in earlier during Friday the 13th but promptly ran out screaming about pagan witchcraft.  
"W-W-W-Why? Everybody is still awake! It doesn't look they'll be able to sleep for awhile."  
"True. But this trash caused sleeping disorders in normal people who watched it. What do you think is going to happen to us?"  
"Well..."Stafford trailed off, "S**t"  
"Exactly," Wowryk said smugly, "Sweet dreams." She walked back out.  
"I really hate her sometimes," muttered Stafford.  
"Bridge to Captain Stafford," came an unfamiliar voice over the comm.  
"Sir, the dignitaries have been up here waiting for you for the past half hour."  
"What? On my way!" Stafford closed the channel and dragged Noonan out into the corridor and towards the turbolift.  
"I didn't know we were getting dignitaries," said Noonan.  
"Me neither!"

Stafford and Noonan arrived on the bridge in record time. Admiral Grant and another man Stafford didn't recognize were standing in the command deck while Grant's aid hauled Fifebee's holo-relay onto the bridge and started tinkering with it.  
"Glad you could finally join us, Captain," said Grant with his signature false cheer."  
"Uh, yeah, hi Admiral," said Stafford. He was still jittery from the caffeine, "So good to see you again. And who's this guy?"  
"This 'guy'," said Grant, "is the Federation Liaison to Operation Salvage, Mr. Drek Jeba."  
"Hi," said Drek.  
"Hi," replied Stafford. Noonan nodded his greetings.  
"So, what are you guys here for anyway?" asked Stafford.  
"The launch."  
"Oh, right, that," said Stafford, "Well, we're pretty much ready to go, here. Other than the whole nightmare and irrational fear thing."  
"Yeah, whatever," said Grant, "You know, I have a really hard time believing you people on that. We're in Earth orbit! What could possibly go wrong! No, I think you're just stalling."  
Stafford sputtered. He gestured wildly with his arms, but was too flabbergasted to speak.  
"The captain assures you that our concerns are sincere and is distressed by Starfleet's lack of response on this issue," Noonan interpreted. Stafford nodded.  
"Well, I'm sure that if this pesky little problem persists after launch that you will be able to take care of it like any COMPETENT Starfleet crew," replied Grant.  
"Oh, yeah," Stafford finally said with a frown, "W-W-We'll be JUST fine."  
"In any event," broke in Drek," the bottle is on the way and FedNet News is ready for the broadcast. In 90 minutes, you'll either launch this ship or humiliate us all trying."  
"Bottle?" asked Stafford.  
"Broadcast?" asked Noonan.  
"Yes, captain," said Grant. His false cheer was becoming very strained, "it is customary to break a bottle of champagne when launching a new vessel."  
"I know the tradition!" snapped Stafford," What do you have for us? Root Beer?"  
"No Captain. We have a lovely Chateau Picard."  
Stafford groaned and rolled his eyes.

Captain's Log, Stardate 56175.6  
"Oh my God, 10 minutes until launch. I sure hope Jeffery knew what he was doing when he put everything back together; otherwise this is going to be a very short adventure. Not that I'm scared or anything, no, not at all. Not in any way, shape or form."

Silverado floated serenely in dock. The umbilicals had all been detached, the gaping holes in her hull repaired. Power was supplied now by the ships own reactors rather than the box dock generators. She was still in bad need of a paint job, but all the graffiti had been removed, at least.  
"Report, Mr. Jeffery," said Stafford from his command chair. Admiral Grant and Mr. Jeba were standing on either side of T'Parief at the rear bridge rail.  
"We're as ready as we'll ever be," came Jeffery's voice from engineering.  
"Great," said Stafford, "let's get this show on the road."  
"One moment please, Captain," said Grant, "Mr. Elliot?"  
The aide hit a control on Fifebee's holo-relay and a holographic image of President Dillon appeared.  
"Welcome to Dillon's Supply Depot!" the holo-Dillon said cheerfully, "What can I do for you today?"  
"Just stand there and look pretty," said Grant. "Operations Officer, open the channel to Fednet News."  
"Do we really have to do this?" sighed Jall.  
"YES!" snapped Grant.  
"Channel open." The display screens on the port and starboard auxiliary consoles switched to show the live broadcast and an image of the ship floating in dock.  
"And joining us now," said a pretty, auburn-haired reporter, "is Admiral Grant, the office in charge of Operation Salvage. The Admiral is coming to us live from the bridge of the U.S.S. Silverado, the first ship to be reclaimed by this controversial program. Admiral, can you-"  
"Now Ms. Nicholson," said Grant, "There will be plenty of time for questions during our interview later. For now, let's celebrate the launch!"  
The view centered on a dark bottle as it tumbled end-over-end through space. It spun towards the leading edge of the ship's saucer. It skimmed along the lower edge, missing the saucer entirely and smashed against the starboard nacelle grill. The nacelle flickered for a moment then stabilized. Stafford groaned and rolled his eyes.  
"Captain, take her out," ordered Grant.  
"Ensign Yanick," said Stafford, "thrusters at station-keeping. Running lights on."  
Yanick ran her fingers over her panel, electing a sharp BEEP!  
"Oops," she said, "how did that happen? Hold on, I'll fix it in just a second..."  
Stafford looked over at the panel showing the broadcast. It showed the ship in dock with her running lights flickering on and off like a Christmas tree.  
Stafford signed and rubbed his temple. "Forget it. Thrusters ahead. Get us out of here. GO!"  
Silverado eased carefully out of dock. With a slight wobble she angled away from Earth. Her impulse engines roared to life and she shot into the depths of space.

"All right, end transmission, let's get out of here," said Grant. He grabbed a plaque and a padd from his assistant and handed them to Stafford.  
"Congratulations and all that," he said, "Grant to Spacedock, hurry up and beam us off this deathtrap before we're out of range."  
Grant, Drek and his assistant vanished into a haze of transporter sparkles. Fifebee deactivated the holo-Dillon.  
"Well, that was fun," said Stafford sarcastically. He looked at the plaque.

U.S.S. Silverado NCC-135060  
Ambassador Class  
Recommissioned Stardate 56175  
Captain Chris Staffort Commanding  
"You can't be late when you're going nowhere..."

"Prick spelled my name wrong," muttered Stafford.

Captain's Log, Stardate 56175.9.  
"'Fly around for awhile and make sure nothing is going to explode.' Whoever is in charge of writing out mission objectives just isn't trying anymore. Oh well, this gives us a chance to deal with the paranoia, fears and nightmares plaguing the crew. Lieutenant Fifebee is confident that she will soon be able to track down the source of the disturbance, which for some reason is following us wherever we go. Unfortunately people are succumbing to fatigue and Dr. Wowryk is no longer able to revive them."

Stafford was in Sickbay, as far away from Wowryk as he could get. She was too exhausted to even try to make him squirm.  
"That's it," she said, "Stimulants aren't working. He's in God's hands now." Lieutenant Jall was lying on the biobed.  
"Well, I can actually live with that," said Stafford, "but how long until the rest of us go?"  
"Probably within the hour," replied Wowryk.  
Stafford turned to Fifebee. "You realize that means you're gonna have to solve this on your own. We're counting on you to find and disable whatever is causing this."  
"I understand," said Fifebee, "but you should know that Commander Noonan has reported no drowsiness, nightmares or fatigue.'  
"Really?" asked Stafford in surprise, "I thought everybody was being affected. I'd like to know how he manages that."  
"Don't we all," replied Fifebee, "unfortunately he has not been cooperative as far as medical testing is concerned."  
"Hmm, well, nobody is perfect. Dr. Wowryk, what do his records show?"  
Silence.  
"Dr. Wowryk?" Stafford asked again. He turned and found her slumped over her desk.  
"It's spreading," said Fifebee as Wowryk tumbled to the floor.  
"Yeah, but it sure picked a great place to start!" Stafford walked out of Sickbay humming a tune to himself which Fifebee identified as "Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead!"  
Stafford's momentary cheer quickly faded as he walked through the corridor to the turbolift. He found 3 crewmen slumped on the floor, and could feel his eyes growing more and more heavy. He arrived at the bridge to find Yanick slumped over the helm and T'Parief lying on the floor. Noonan was tapping away at an auxiliary console.  
"Any luck?" asked Stafford.  
"Not yet," Noonan replied.  
"Why the hell aren't you sleepy?" Stafford demanded.  
"Um, I dunno," said Noonan.  
"Bulls**t!" muttered Stafford, "There's something creepy about you and I want...to...know..." Stafford fell to the ground.  
Phew thought Noonan.

Stafford awoke with a start and looked around. He was on a planet. It was dark and dreary out. Lightning flashed in the distance. Strangely enough, this time he was fully aware that the scene around him wasn't real.  
As he stood up he noticed that the ground seemed closer than normal. Whatever. Stupid dreams.  
"Captain!"  
Stafford turned around. T'Parief was coming up behind him. He looked strange. Well, stranger. He was a mottled brown with lime green highlights, rather than his usual greenish-brown. His scales were smaller, and he looked about a foot too short.  
"What the hell happened to you?" asked Stafford, "Get into a fight with another can of paint?"  
"What happened to you? T'Parief shot back. His voice was almost up to human level. "Get hit in the face with a shotgun?"  
Stafford was taken aback. T'Parief had NEVER spoken to him like that. He reached up to his face and felt the acne pock marking his skin.  
"Wha-?" asked Stafford.  
"My apologies Captain," T'Parief said, "I'm having some problems controlling myself. "  
"I'd say that's the least of your problem," said Stafford, "what happened to you?"  
"It's not just me," T'Parief replied, "all crewmembers in this realm seem to have returned to their teens. Follow me. We've gathered together in one building. It's safer that way."  
"Safe from what?"  
"You don't want to know."  
T'Parief led Stafford to a large brick building. He could see Silverado crewmembers on the roof, holding rocks, knives and what looked like kitchen utensils. T'Parief suddenly jerked his head.  
"Hear that?" he asked.  
"No..." Stafford stopped to listen. Slowly, a soft, guttural muttering could be heard. He looked back.  
The thing was once human. It looked half starved as it stumbled towards them. It growled and muttered to itself. It's clothing was wet and tattered, and most of its face was hidden in the tangled mass of hair. Behind it, several more dark forms were approaching.  
"This isn't a sightseeing tour!" snapped T'Parief as he grabbed Stafford's arm, "Run!"  
They ran into the building. Ensign Dar'ugal, about 4 feet tall with bright orange fur, closed and barricaded the door behind them. Inside, the building looked like a Klingon starship. T'Parief led Stafford to a huge gymnasium where Wowryk, Yanick and Jall were gathered around a table.  
"Captain!" Yanick said with relief, "I'm so glad we found you! I was scared you were going to be caught by the Possessed."  
"The what?" asked Stafford.  
"Those miserable things outside," said Jall, "The doc here doesn't have a clue what they are, but they scratch and bite. One bite and you catch whatever the f**k they have."  
"Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this all just a dream?" asked Stafford.  
"I don't know what the hell this is, other than that I was right and watching scary movies WAS a stupid idea," said Wowryk, "Dreamers aren't usually aware of the fact that they are dreaming yet we are. However, that could work to our advantage. Sometimes lucid dreamers can obtain some control-"  
"Oh shut up!" snapped Jall, "You just said you don't know what's going on, so can it! Look, Captain, Fifebee is going to get us out of this. I say we just sit back, relax, and wait."  
There was a loud pounding from the door, then scratching and moaning.  
"Brace the doorway!" bellowed T'Parief, "let none of them in!"  
"There could be other people out there!" wailed Yanick, "We can't just leave them!"  
"Who f**king cares?" asked Jall, "It's all a dream. It doesn't matter what happens," he ran over to T'Parief, slapped him across the face and turned to Stafford. "See? It's just a f**king dream!"  
"Don't do that again, little man." T'Parief growled.  
"Oh c'mon you big lizard! You know you liked it. Welcome to Dreamland! Let your fondest wishes and most desperate desires come true!" He turned back to T'Parief and gave him a good boot in the ass.  
T'Parief let out a roar of pain and outrage, spun around and raked his claws across Jall's torso. Jall screamed as he was eviscerated from sternum to crotch and started falling to the ground. Before he even hit his body disintegrated and blew away.  
"What the hell was that?" cried Yanick.  
"One of the many reasons not to piss off anybody with teenage Andorian blood in them," muttered Stafford as he backed slowly away.  
"I-I-Is he dead?"  
"I doubt it. We could never be that lucky."  
"Oh."  
The thudding at the door grew louder and the doors began to buckle.  
"This is not good!" yelled Dr. Wowryk.  
"No s**t!" wailed Yanick.  
The doors flew open and crowds of the Possessed started pouring in.  
"T'Parief, how about some of that teenage Andorian blood rage?" yelled Stafford.  
T'Parief waded through the crowd of creatures, ripping and tearing as he went. Other Silverado crewmembers joined the fray bashing at the Possessed with clubs, table legs and frying pans.  
"There's too many of them!" roared T'Parief.  
Stafford, Yanick and Wowryk backed up against the far wall as the Possessed came closer and closer. Yanick shrieked as one grabbed at her. She ducked under its grasp and gave it a solid kick. The thing fell away.  
Stafford looked at Wowryk. She had her eyes closed and was praying with all her might. Suddenly a gleaming machete materialized in her hand. She raked it across the nearest creature, slicing it in two.  
"How the f**k did you do that?" yelled Stafford as slapped and battered at what was once a very fat kid.  
"It's a lucid dream!" Wowryk shouted back, "Focus on what you really want and you can get it!"  
"What?"  
"Just do it!" she hacked an arm off another creature.  
Stafford tried to focus his mind. Phaser...phaser...phaser...phaser...  
A huge, bulky weapon materialized in his hands and a massive storage tank appeared on his back.  
"Oh yeah!" Stafford screamed in triumph, "Take this you freaks!" He cocked the weapon and pulled the trigger releasing a high-pressure stream of water that pushed the Possessed back about half a foot.  
"Oh for f**k sakes!" he whined, "The doctor gets a huge sword and I get this piece of junk?" He quickly backpedaled as the Possessed kid stalked back toward him.  
Suddenly its head went flying as Wowryk's machete sliced through its neck. "It's all a matter of self-control and mental strength!" Wowryk said smugly as the decapitated thing fell to the ground.  
Suddenly she shrieked as one of the Possessed came up behind her and clamped its grimy hands on her shoulders. She reached back and grabbed its head, working desperately to avoid its sharp teeth. She screwed her eyes shut and screamed out a prayer as she wrestled with it. "Oh Lord, give me the will, the strength and the POWER to send thy enemy back to the hell from which they came!"  
There was a sudden roar as an explosion of twisted blue light erupted from Wowryk. It spread out, racing around the room, tearing the dream reality into a million different directions and sending Stafford spiraling into a tornado of insanity.

Noonan and Fifebee worked on the bridge of the Silverado. Fifebee was at the rear science station while Noonan occupied the starboard auxiliary console.  
"We're at all-stop," Noonan reported, "all systems are stable. Stable enough, anyway."  
"Understood," replied Fifebee, "I'm still searching for this thing...hmm...this is odd."  
"What?"  
"This is very unusual," Fifebee replied.  
"Let me see."  
Noonan walked up behind Fifebee. She pointed to the screen.  
"Here are my readings from before. They show a spatial disturbance that looks very familiar to me," she said, "but around the time Lieutenant Jall passed out I started picking up this."  
Noonan studied the readout. "That looks like psionic energy."  
"It does," replied Fifebee. She arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were so familiar with life sciences." Psionic energy was the energy created by all living things and was as close to a 'life-force' as science could identify.  
"Um, lucky guess."  
"In any event this psionic energy is somehow creating a cortical induction field."  
"Ok, now you have lost me."  
"Cortical induction technology was a predecessor to holodeck technology, transmitting information directly to the user's brain. This field could be what caused the shared dreams between Yanick, T'Parief and Jall. They weren't truly dreaming, although it's pretty close."  
"Great, so what do we do?' Noonan asked.  
"I believe I can now track down to source of both the disturbance and the field."  
"Jall to bridge!"  
"Bridge, Noonan here," Noonan responded, "How is it that you're awake?"  
"T'Parief killed me!" snapped Jall, "That bastard sliced me up like a fish, then I woke up in sickbay!"  
"We'll be right down."

"Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to have all your guts flying out?" Jall asked Fifebee as she scanned him with a tricorder.  
"Actually," she replied, "no. You see, holograms don't have guts!" Jall gave her an annoyed look.  
"How is he?" asked Noonan.  
"Fine," replied Fifebee, "Strangely fine. He is no longer being affected by the cortical induction field."  
"The what?" asked Jall.  
"The psionic energy phenomenon that is creating the nightmare realm you spoke of," replied Fifebee.  
"Oh," said Jall, "Nice to know you were able to figure out part of what's going on. Did you figure out the anomaly thing?"  
"No. It's very close to another disturbance I have on record, encountered by Spock of the original Enterprise, but there are substantial differences."  
"Did you factor in the effects of the psionic energy field?" Jall asked.  
"No, I didn't," Fifebee frowned and started tapping on one of the Sickbay panels. "Spatial interphase!" she said triumphantly.  
"Who-what phase?" asked Jall.  
"A spatial interphase was discovered by the original Enterprise a century ago. It caused extreme paranoid and rage aboard the starships Defiant and Enterprise, almost leading to the death of the Enterprise crew."  
"You know," interjected Noonan, "you're such an annoying person that it's easy to forget that you actually have a brain."  
"Bite me," muttered Jall.  
"So this 'spatial interphase' caused the fears and paranoia, then the psionic energy field helped us use those fears to create a world of nightmares," said Noonan, "How and why?"  
"I don't know," said Fifebee, "the phenomenon has never been artificially created, but we know that the field affecting us is artificial. As for why, we'll have to find out who before we can determine why."  
"Let's start looking."

Noonan and Jall followed Fifebee as she walked through deck six. She suddenly stopped at the entrance to Cargo Bay 2. Jall, who wasn't paying attention, crashed into the back of her.  
"Hey babe," he said with a grin.  
Fifebee gave him a quizzical look and moved on.  
"Didn't think she was your type," muttered Noonan.  
"What do you mean by that?" asked Jall.  
"Oh, nothing."  
"Here it is!" said Fifebee. Her tricorder had led her to a large unlabeled crate. It was sandwiched between the crate containing Ensign Dar'ugal's hat collection and Nurse Kerry's antique credenza. Fifebee opened the crate to reveal a glittering, beeping, flashing gizmo.  
Fifebee studied her tricorder. "The field is growing in intensity! What the... I'm reading some kind of...neural link?"  
"What the hell does that mean?" asked Jall.  
"I'm picking up neural patterns consistent with a human brain. Somehow this device has integrated itself with the brainwaves of a specific person."  
"Well shut the damned thing down!" Jall shouted.  
"NO!" barked Noonan, "We don't know what that would do! Do we?"  
"Most likely whoever is linked would suffer irreversible brain damage," stated Fifebee.  
"So?" asked Jall, "One person vs. 600. Needs of the many and all that."  
Fifebee looked at him with a questioning expression. "You are disturbed, Lieutenant."  
"And you're a frigid b-"  
"What do you suggest we do?" Noonan interrupted.  
"We need to get everybody out of the dream state, and then shut down the device," replied Fifebee.  
"Amazing deduction," muttered Jall.  
"So how do we get them out?" asked Noonan.  
They looked at Jall.  
"What?"  
"You escape unharmed," said Fifebee.  
"I was slaughtered like a sheep!" protested Jall.  
"Whatever works!"  
"F**k that!"  
"Can we re-immerse him in the psionic field?" Noonan asked Fifebee.  
"Yes, I believe we can."  
"Then it's settled. Lieutenant, you will return to the dream realm and let the Captain know how to escape."

Stafford struggled to hold down his lunch as the world spun around him. "What the hell is going on!" he shouted.  
"The dream realm has destabilized!" answered an unfamiliar ensign in a blue uniform, "We're bouncing between different people's dreams!"  
"Who the hell are you, and how do you know that?" demanded Stafford.  
"Ensign Cornwall, science staff. It's my job to provide convenient answers!"  
"Right. Where are we?"  
"Look around and see for yourself."  
Stafford looked around. He was on the Silverado bridge. Alarms were blaring and Earth was growing on the screen as the ship spiraled down.  
"Oh please! Been there, done that!" groaned Stafford.  
"Not like this you haven't!" Ensign Cornwall opened her mouth revealing sharp fangs. She jumped at Stafford.  
"AHHHH!"

Ensign Yanick was in her bedroom at her parent's place on Earth. The walls were a soft creamy hue. Stuffed animals littered the floor. T'Parief had returned to his normal appearance and was sitting on the bed.  
"Here we go again," he said.  
"Oh brother," muttered Yanick. She opened the closet door and looked inside. She walked looked out another door into the hallway, then out the window.  
"What are you doing?" asked T'Parief.  
"Checking for Lieutenant Jall," she said.  
"Oh. Wanna do it?"  
"Hey! I'm not that kind of girl!"  
"Why not? This is your dream after all." T'Parief stood and walked to Yanick. He took her in his thick, muscular arms and gazed at her with his deep red eyes.  
"I...I...I..." Yanick stuttered. Her willpower crumbled. It was a dream after all. She kissed T'Parief, remembering just in time to be mindful of the razor sharp teeth.  
"SINNERS!" came the scream from the door. Yanick broke away from T'Parief and turned to confront the intruder.  
Dr. Wowryk was standing in the doorway. She was dressed in black robes and wore a large pointed hat.  
"Daughter of Gomorrah! Repent and be saved! But you, you evil, scheming, horny MAN! There is no hope for you! Behold your punishment! MWA-HA-HA-HA!"  
Wowryk cackled as she raised her hands. Bolts of lightening speared from her fingertips and writhed around T'Parief. He gave a mighty roar, which quickly petered out as he began to shrink. Before Yanick's horrified gaze he was transformed into a small, green frog. Wowryk snapped her fingers and the frog exploded with a pop.  
Yanick's eyes started to tear.  
"Oh, don't worry honey," said Wowryk, "that wasn't the real T'Parief, only your dream version. I've just been dying to try that out!"

Jeffery ran at top speed through the corridors as his large friend chased after him.  
"C'mere wee lad! I'm not gonna hurt ye, much!" shouted the behemoth.  
"Noooo!" wailed Jeffery. He ran into an armory and grabbed a phaser rifle. He pointed it back over his head and started firing shots. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the huge man was still chasing him. He aimed more carefully and fired off another round. It sunk deep into the man's massively fat stomach before bouncing back at Jeffery. Without bothering to wonder about how energy bolts could bounce Jeffery ducked down, barely avoiding the shot.  
He ducked around the corner to find Dr. Wowryk standing there in bizarre clothing.  
"Doc, ye gotta help me!" he gasped.  
Wowryk twirled her hand and a wall of energy appeared in front of the fat man, blocking him from getting at Jeffery.  
"Better?" she asked.  
"Yes, thank ye Noel! Thank ye so much!"  
"Hmmm...now how shall you repay your debt?" she asked.  
"Debt?" asked Jeffery, "What debt?"  
"Silence!" snapped Wowryk, "Or I'll let your friend here finish with you!"  
"Right, debt. Gotcha."

Stafford opened his eyes. He was in a dark but disturbingly clean cell. T'Parief was slumped over a cot on the far wall. Looking around he could see about two-dozen other male members of the Silverado crew crowded into the cell, with more cells visible down the hallway. Everybody was dressed in plain, white outfits.  
"What the hell is going on now?" he said in a resigned voice.  
Everybody looked at each other in puzzlement then started talking. The general feel Stafford had was that everybody had been in the gymnasium fighting the Possessed, then whisked away to some nightmare world before being dropped down into the cell.  
There was a commotion at the door. Two women in tight leather outfits walked in brandishing phasers, shackles and chains. Stafford recognized them as Ensign Jones and Ensign Martub of Stellar Cartography. Jones held Stafford and T'Parief at gunpoint as Martub snapped shackles on their wrists.  
"What the hell are you doing Ensign?" barked Stafford. Martub backhanded him across the face.  
"You will speak when spoken to, you disgusting little worm!" she snapped.  
Stafford was taken aback. He had only met Martub once before in Unbalanced Equations. She was normally a very quite girl. Shocked, he allowed himself to be led out of the cell.  
Jones and Martub led the two men through the rough but spotless stone walls of the dungeon, up a series of stairs and into a luxurious wood paneled corridor. After several turns they emerged into a huge throne room filled with silks, tapestries and red velvet. Dr. Noel Wowryk sat on a huge throne, now wearing a blinding white robe and a matching white pointed hat. Jeffery was chained to the floor beside her, wearing a dark pair of shorts.  
"Bow before Her Majesty," ordered Jones.  
"Not likely," muttered T'Parief.  
Wowryk clapped her hands gently. Stafford felt a powerful force bending his knees. He was forced down to the floor.  
Wowryk chuckled, "So, who's in control now, Captain?"  
"What? How?" Stafford demanded, as he lay pressed into the floor.  
"I've transformed this realm," said Wowryk as she stood and walked towards them, "I've created a world of paradise. Clean, safe and secure, where we can live our lives and fulfill our dreams."  
"Yeah," said T'Parief, "I've always dreamed of being used as a rug."  
"Your dreams are irrelevant," snapped Wowryk, "The Sisters of the Realm are all that matter. We will live in a world of luxury, while you fulfill our every command."  
"Sisters of the Realm?" asked Stafford.  
"Yes," said Wowryk with a beatific smile, "Here we can live untouched by the diseased and oppressing hand of man!"  
"What the hell did you do to Jeffery!" snarled Stafford, "Looks like he's the one being oppressed!"  
"Every great Queen needs her consort," Wowryk said with a smile, "I rescued him from an unpleasant situation. He has agreed to serve as my willing slave."  
"Geez Simon, I had no idea you were into that kinky s**t," said Stafford with a smirk.  
"Silence!" snapped Wowryk before Jeffery could respond, "His servitude is but the first line of repayment owed to women by men for years of repression and servitude!"  
"Um, I hate to break it to you," said Stafford, "but sexism hasn't existed in the Federation for centuries."  
Wowryk snapped her fingers. A shiver of energy ran over Stafford, who let out a wince of pain.  
"Don't question my divine plan!" she snapped. "We will live in paradise, and you will suffer in HELL! "  
"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered T'Parief.

TO BE CONTINUED  
Next: Will Stafford and T'Parief defeat the maniacal Queen Wowryk? Will Fifebee and Noonan save the crew from their bizarre fate? Just how many times can Lieutenant Jall die? Find out next time, on Star Traks: Silverado!


	4. 4 - Ship of Dreams? - Part Two

Star Traks: Silverado

1.4 - Ship of Dreams? - Part Two

Silverado Computer voice-over  
"Where did I put that script? Oh, here we go. Last time, on Star Traks Silverado…actually, you know, you should really go outside and enjoy the fresh air. The sun is shining, the grass is green, and you haven't played with your poor puppy-dog all week! See how lonely she looks out there? Don't be such a couch potato, go outside and play!"

Silverado Computer voice-over  
"OK, OK, management informs me that I have to give the summary anyway. Ahem. Last time on Star Traks, Silverado, the crew was haunted by strange dreams, irrational fears, and an interior decorating disaster. After struggling to launch their aged ship…hey! AGED SHIP?! I AM NOT OLD! Didn't your mother ever tell you NEVER to mention a lady's age in public? What? You say my sensor arrays are the loveliest shade of blue you've ever seen? Why, you charmer you! What? Oh yeah…"  
"After launching their upgraded, renovated, and YOUNG-AT-HEART ship from Earth orbit the Silverado crew, with the exception of Lieutenant Fifebee and Commander Noonan (what the hell is with him anyway?), were trapped in a nightmare realm where their worst fears came true. As Noonan and Fifebee discover that an alien device is causing the whole mess, Lieutenant Jall learns the hard way that the only way one may escape the dream realm is by dying."  
"Driven mad by the nightmares, Dr. Wowryk seizes control of the dream world and transforms it into her version of paradise where cold hearted women control all, men are enslaved and normal rules of existence and common sense are thrown out the airlock."  
"As Captain Stafford and his crew struggle against the insane Queen Wowryk and her army of the Possessed, Noonan and Fifebee must convince Jall to return to the dream world to free his comrades."

Reality

"Are you out of your f**king mind!" yelled Lieutenant Jall. He was in Cargo Bay 2, where Fifebee and Noonan had discovered the alien device causing the bizarre dreams. "I don't wanna die again!"  
"You won't actually die!" Fifebee insisted, "When people die in the device's generated dream world they are removed from the program and allowed to continue their normal lives."  
"But it still hurt!"  
"You'll just have to accept that pain is sometimes necessary," said Noonan, "but without you the crew will be trapped in that world until their bodies starve to death."  
"Why don't you go in?" demanded Jall.  
"My neural chemistry is not compatible with the device," replied Noonan.  
"What do you mean? You're human, aren't you?"  
"It does not matter."  
"Yes it does matter! What's wrong with you? Does the Captain know?"  
Noonan looked directly into Jall's eyes, "It does not matter," he intoned.  
"It does not matter," repeated Jall.  
"Fascinating," said Fifebee, "how did you do that?"  
"Light hypnosis."  
"Really? That's a very rare gift, to that do things like that! I would love to study the phenomenon in more detail!"  
"I would rather you did not mention it again."  
"Oh. Very well. So why don't you just hypnotize him into doing what we need?" asked Fifebee. A faint outline of Trill spots had appeared at her temples.  
"That would be unethical, now wouldn't it?" said Noonan, "and by the way, you're changing again."  
"Oh, oops!" Fifebee concentrated for a moment and the spots vanished.  
"Um, what were we saying?" interrupted Jall as he came out of his trance.  
"We were saying," said Fifebee as she looked down her nose at Jall (or tried to, he's a lot taller than she is), "that unless you grow up and behave like an adult everybody is going to die!"  
"Do I really have to?"  
"YES!" said Noonan and Fifebee.  
"Oh FINE! But only if I get to kill T'Parief. It's only fair!"  
"Ok," said Noonan, "you can kill T'Parief. Or at least try to anyway."  
"How do you plan to get me back in?"  
"I have located the control mechanism for the device, "said Fifebee, "Almost everything is encrypted at such a high level that it would take decades for us to decode, however I am able to re-enter you into the program."  
"Really? Wow!" said Jall, "a completely unknown alien technology beyond our level of comprehension and you figured it out like that? How did you do it?"  
Fifebee pointed at a screen on the device. It read 'Disconnected Users'. There was one name on the list: San Jall. At the bottom of the screen was a button labeled 'Reconnect'.  
"That's really f**king convenient" muttered Jall. Fifebee highlighted Jall's name and hit the 'Reconnect' button. Jall immediately passed out and collapsed to the floor.  
"You could have warned him you know," said Noonan.  
"I could have," replied Fifebee, "but I didn't."

Dreamland

"This sucks!" complained Stafford. He was on his hands and knees scrubbing the floors in the vast kitchen of Castle Wowryk. Various male crewmembers were scurrying around working to prepare dinner. Nurse Kerry was supervising the activity wearing a snug leather body suit.  
"You!" she snapped, pointing at Steven Steiger, the Silverado's bartender. "Gravy must be stirred in a COUNTER-clockwise direction in accordance with Page 27 Paragraph 7b of Martha Stewart's revised 'Guide to Waistline Friendly Sauces, Gravies and Puddings'!"  
"Oh come on!" said Steven, "You know Her Infernal Majesty is just going to transform it to perfection anyway!"  
Nurse Kerry directed a sharp blast of lightening at Steven, who howled in pain. "You will not question the orders of a Royal Mistress!" she snapped, "Disobedience is punishable by Level 2 electro-shock therapy in accordance with The Decree for the Control of Male Behavior."  
"Yes ma'am," gulped Steven.  
Travis Pye, the night shift helm officer, turned to Stafford. "I don't remember her being such a hard-ass when I had my physical!"  
"Dr. Wowryk must be affecting they way she thinks," whispered Stafford.  
"Oh yeah?" Pye whispered back, "They why doesn't she just will us all behave?"  
"I think that would spoil her fun," replied Stafford, "either that or she can't. We're trying to resist her, but I doubt the ladies put up much of a fight. They got the better end of this deal."  
A small flicker of lightening zipped past Stafford's nose.  
"Hey!" he cried, "I didn't do anything!"  
"Dissent of the servant race is not permitted. You would be wise to watch your tongue!"  
Stafford looked like he was going to say more, but after a quick glance at the scorches on Steven's back he quickly reconsidered and closed his mouth.  
Another female crewmember in a flattering yet stylish outfit walked in dragging Nurse Kerry's boyfriend, Crewman Shwaluk behind her.  
"This one has proven to have no musical talent whatsoever and so is being transferred from the Entertainment Department to the Culinary Preparation Department, in accordance to the wishes of Her Majesty," she reported.  
"Leslie, baby," he said shocked, "wow, you look damned sexy in that outfit! You gotta save me from these nuts!"  
Nurse Kerry flicked her whip, wrapping it around Shwaluk's neck.  
"Your disgusting comments constitute a Level 7 Sexual Violation of the Decree for the Control of Male Behavior, Section 3, Paragraph 7, "snarled Nurse Kerry, "Your actions are punishable by Level 1 electro-shock-"  
"NO!" cried Shwaluk, "C'mon baby, I love you, don't do this to me!" he ran to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. When he let go she had a dazed expression on her face.  
"Seth?" she asked.  
"NO!" barked the other female, "You are a Sister of the Realm, resist his insidious attempts at deceit!"  
Kerry's face hardened again. She pushed Shwaluk against the wall.  
"You disgusting, vile creature!" she snarled, enraged, "How DARE you touch me! You actions are a flagrant disregard for Section 3, Paragraph 3 of the Decree! Your attempt to initiate foreplay with a female who is NOT your wife in the eyes of God constitutes a Level 2 Sexual Violation, for which you will receive the ultimate non-fatal punishment. "  
"W-w-what are you going to do to me?" Shwaluk asked in a small voice.  
"Hopefully, fix what's wrong with you!" snapped Kerry, "To the Medical Chambers!" Kerry and the other woman dragged Shwaluk out of the room as he screamed.  
"No! No! Have mercy! NOOO!"  
The screams were cut off as Nurse Kerry slammed and bolted the kitchen door.  
"My God," murmured Stafford.  
"Perhaps they will give him the option of suicide," T'Parief said hopefully.

Jall found himself in a lavishly appointed washroom. The toilets were made of solid gold with soft, padded silk seats. A massive clam shaped marble bathtub filled one end of the room and was filled with soft, fruity smelling bubbles. Jall hid behind a massive potted plant as the door opened. Ensign Yanick and Dr. Wowryk walked in.  
"Your bath has been prepared, Your Majesty," said Yanick.  
"Oh goody," said Wowryk, "I'm pooped."  
Jall turned away in horror as Wowryk disrobed and sunk into the tub. When her back was turned he snuck into the hall.  
After several minutes of sneaking around he realized that he had no idea where to find the Captain. He hid behind a corner and waited for somebody to pass by.  
After a few moments Jall heard footsteps. Peeking around the corner he saw one of Steven's waitresses walking by in a conservative business suit. As she passed Jall snuck up behind her and threw his arm across her throat.  
"Where is the Captain?" he demanded.  
"Get off me, you heathen pig!" she hollered.  
"Where is the Captain?"  
"Guards! Guards! Assist me!"  
"WHERE IS THE CAPTAIN!"  
"He's assigned to the Culinary Department!"  
"Thanks!" said Jall. Suddenly two of the Possessed came stumbling up the hall. He threw the woman in their path and bolted.  
The woman picked herself up off the ground and made a throwing motion towards Jall's retreating figure. A ball of flame shot from her hand, expanding as it approached Jall and incinerating him instantly.

Reality

"AHHH!" screamed Jall as he bolted awake again. Noonan and Fifebee looked down at him.  
"Back already?" asked Noonan, "Where's the Captain?"  
"Well," said Jall, "Ya see…I sorta…"  
"No Captain? Ok….back you go!"

Dreamland

This time Jall found himself in a large theatre. Paintings covered the walls and on stage about a dozen members of the Silverado security force were being forced to rehearse a musical.  
"No, no no!" snapped Madame Schoonbaert. She was Silverado's schoolteacher, synchronized swimming coach, drama guru and dance instructor. "You must glide, glide across the stage like a graceful elf. You're bouncing around like rabid tumbleweed! Now sing!"  
"Do we have to?" whined one of guys.  
"Yes! Sing!" commanded Schoonbaert.  
"But this is a f**king gay song!"  
Schoonbaert snapped her fingers and a series of puppet strings flew down from the ceiling and attached themselves to the performers.  
"Now sing!" ordered Schoonbaert, "Or I'll see how well you can do the splits!"  
The squad exchanged worried glances then broke into song:

Three little maids from school are we,  
Pert as a school-girl well can be,  
Filled to the brim with girlish glee,  
Three little maids from school!

"No, no, NO!" wailed Schoonbaert, "That was awful! It had no power, no energy, no NOTHING! And you!" she poked Ensign Dar'ugal hard, "You couldn't hit a high note if your life depended on it!" Dar'ugal broke into sobs and ran off the stage.  
"Take these amateurs away, Sisters!" barked Schoonbaert to a quartet of Royal Mistrisses, "Her Majesty will just have to settle for television tonight."  
The male officers were led away leaving Schoonbaert alone in the theatre with Jall. Jall snuck up slowly behind her and grabbed her wrists.  
"Where is the Captain?" he demanded.  
"He's slaving away in the kitchens!" Schoonbaert said.  
Jall cocked his head. "That was easy."  
"What was easy?"  
"Well, you answered my question."  
"Yes, I did. Unlike some, I have an ounce of class! I can respect the lower orders, providing they know their place!" Schoonbaert glared at Jall, "Why are you here anyway? You should be working!"  
"Um, well, I'm sort of here to free everybody," replied Jall  
"WHAT? Heretic! Blasphemer! How dare you oppose the Sisters of the Realm!"  
"Maybe I'll just be going now," said Jall as he backed slowly away."  
"I think not!" said Schoonbaert in a low voice; "Queen Wowryk deals very harshly with intruders here!" A razor sharp sword appeared in her hand. Jall bolted off the stage and up the stairs towards the exit. Madame Schoonbaert gave chase.  
Jall wasn't exactly in bad shape, but Schoonbaert was a dance instructor. Halfway up the stairs Jall looked back to see her gaining steadily on him.  
"No!" shouted Jall, "Please, not again!"  
The next thing Jall knew, his head was bouncing back down the stairs.

Reality

"I'm getting sick of this!" Jall yelled at Fifebee.  
"I thought decapitation was supposed to be painless," said Noonan.  
"Not quite!" snapped Jall, "And do you have any idea how f**ked up it is to see your own body jerking and twitching like that?"  
"Not really," said Fifebee.  
"IT SUCKS!"  
"Right," said Noonan, "Are you ready to try again?"  
"Hell no!"  
Fifebee hit the 'Reconnect' button causing Jall to collapse to the deck.  
Noonan looked at Fifebee.  
"He was disrupting my subroutines," she said.  
Noonan shrugged and went to find something to drink.

Stafford had finally finished scrubbing the floor and was ready to move on to peeling potatoes when the door creaked open and Lieutenant Jall rushed into the room.  
"Jall!" said Stafford in surprise, "You're alive!"  
"Crap," muttered T'Parief.  
"Y-yeah," gasped Jall, "Thank God I finally found you all!"  
"Wait," said T'Parief suspiciously, "how do we know it's really you?"  
"Well, you ignorant prick, when you killed me I was sent back to the real world," said Jall, "I agreed to return to get you all out in exchange for the pleasure of killing you in return."  
"I think it's really him," said Stafford, "So dying gets us out? I dunno, are you sure about that?"  
Jall glared at him, 'Trying to find you, I've been incinerated, decapitated, electrocuted, drowned and shot. Plus getting gutted by lizard-boy over there."  
"That was fun," said T'Parief with a small grin.  
"So anyway, now it's my turn!" Jall ran up behind T'Parief and climbed up his back. He grabbed T'Parief's head and started twisting.  
"I'm…grunt…gonna snap your f**king…gasp…neck!" grunted Jall as he twisted.  
T'Parief, unaffected by Jall's efforts, rolled his eyes. Stafford stifled a chuckle.  
"So we all have to die to escape," asked Stafford.  
"Yup!" said Jall as he continued to twist T'Parief's head.  
"Including the ladies holding us captive?"  
"Including everybody!"  
"This could be interesting!" said Stafford with an evil grin.  
"Enough!" said T'Parief in frustration; "You're doing it wrong!" He reached back, grabbed Jall, flipped him down, grabbed his head and gave a sharp twist. There was an audible SNAP, then Jall disintegrated.  
"That was disturbing on so many levels," said Stafford, "eh, dreams are dreams."  
About 30 seconds later Jall came back through the door.  
"Cut it out!" he wailed.  
"All right, all right people," Stafford said loudly, "we don't know how much longer we have before the Sisters come back with Shwaluk, so here's the plan. We're going to fight our way down to the holding cells, release as many prisoners as we can, and then we'll bring these bitches down."  
"What about weapons?" asked T'Parief.  
"Oh, right, "said Stafford, "Hold on, let me try something." He concentrated hard. phaser….phaser….phaser…  
Nothing happened.  
"Crap, "he muttered, "All right, we'll just have to improvise. Grab knives, frying pans, whatever! Let's go!" Stafford grabbed a large iron skillet from a rack.  
"What about Shwaluk?" asked one of the crewmen.  
"Eh," said Stafford, "The worst they can do is kill him. And apparently that would be doing him a favor."

Betty and Veronica, a pair of Stellar Cartographers in the real world, were sitting in a small but luxurious lounge having tea and scones. They weren't Royal Mistresses but just part of the Royal Court. As such they were completely unprepared when a dozen men in slave uniforms came bolting down the hall.

After dispatching the two ladies with their iron skillets, Stafford turned to T'Parief.  
"You know, it's a really good thing the bodies vanish or this would be REALLY messy."  
"Indeed," grunted T'Parief.

Stafford, T'Parief and gang met with growing resistance on their trek to the dungeons. The most pitched battle had involved a single Royal Mistress who managed to conjure a photon grenade before succumbing to a meat tenderizer. Unfortunately the grenade also took out Jall, half of Stafford's little army and T'Parief's tail.  
"I don't care if this isn't real, it still hurts!" moaned T'Parief.  
"Why haven't they come back?" asked a panicked ensign.  
"The point is to escape!" said Stafford, "They're back in the real world, waiting for us!"  
"Oh," said the ensign. He promptly stabbed himself in the heart with a steak knife and vanished.  
"Excellent motivational work, sir," grunted T'Parief.  
"Oh shut up!"  
Stafford and crew finally made it down the stairway and into the dungeon. Two Royal Mistresses were guarding the cells.  
"Crewman Micks," Stafford barked at a mousy little man, "get the cells unlocked! Everybody else, we have to hold off these bitches!"  
"You've been very bad boys!" snarled one woman. She began hurling lightening bolts at her attackers.  
T'Parief tried to dodge her bolt but caught a talon in the rough floor and tumbled right into her, crushing her beneath his weight. T'Parief was only lightly singed.  
Micks had managed unlocked several of the cells, freeing many of the captive crewmen to join in the fight. The second Mistress was quickly overwhelmed.  
"All right," said Stafford, " just couple hundred more to go."  
He led his substantially larger army out of the dungeons and into the hall. Rounding a corridor into a large library he was confronted by 50 Royal Mistresses, several other lesser Sisters of the Realm and about 200 of the Possessed. The army of evil was led by Ensign Trish Yanick.  
"Wait Trish," said Stafford as he backed away, "let's not be too hasty! This isn't like you at all, remember? You're cheerful, and friendly, and wouldn't hurt a fly!"  
"I serve the Sisters of the Realm and Her Majesty Queen Wowryk now," Yanick said tonelessly, "You are undeserving of our mercy. You will be destroyed!"  
It was a slaughter. The men brandished their potato mashers and salad forks bravely, but were no match for the Mistress's seemingly supernatural powers. T'Parief was flattened when a massive safe appeared over his head. Stafford took a fireball right between the eyes. The remaining men were quickly overwhelmed and either eliminated or dragged back to the slave dungeon.  
10 minutes later, Yanick stood in the huge hallway surrounded by her warriors.  
"Today, we have triumphed over mankind!" she said coldly.

Reality

Stafford awoke on the bridge floor. Instinctively his hand rose to touch the spot on his face where the fireball had hit. Felt fine. In fact, he felt pretty good. Nothing like a few hours sleep to help charge you up.  
Climbing to his feet Stafford tapped his comm badge.  
"Stafford to Noonan, report"  
"Good morning Captain," said Noonan, "115 crewmembers have awakened and are being checked over by Lieutenant Fifebee. So far she hasn't found any negative side effects caused by your little nap. Lieutenant Jall had to be temporarily sedated the last time he returned as he was in a very agitated state of mind."  
"Yeah, well, "said Stafford, "getting blown up will do that to you every time."  
"I'm very interested in hearing what went on in there," said Noonan.  
"C'mon up for a chat," replied Stafford, "and bring any conscious senior officers you can find with you. We need to figure out how to get everybody else out too."

"That really sucked," said Jall as he followed Noonan into the conference lounge.  
"For once, I agree," said T'Parief.  
"I'm still waiting to hear the full story!" complained Fifebee to Stafford.  
Stafford, Jall and T'Parief quickly outlined their experiences in Dreamland. Once they finished, Fifebee was looking almost dazed.  
"Wow," she said, "incredible. Our readings had indicated that the device was interfacing deeply with somebody but I had no idea that it was Dr. Wowryk or that she would do something like that."  
"That's the strange thing," said Stafford, "I don't think she would."  
"Are you kidding? She's a cold, man-hating bitch!" said Jall.  
"Please explain," said Noonan, "Captain!" he added as Jall opened his mouth.  
"We were all acting different," Stafford explained, "Dr. Wowryk and I have had our differences, but conquering an entire realm and enslaving her crewmates is beyond even her."  
"You tried to appeal to Tri-, um, Ensign Yanick before she commanded her army to destroy us," interjected T'Parief, "Wholesale slaughter is not something she would typically engage in."  
"And don't forget the way everybody kept killing me!" muttered Jall.  
Stafford, T'Parief, Noonan and Fifebee exchanged glances.  
"Oh come on!" snapped Jall, "You may not like me, but you wouldn't kill me!"  
"Hmmm," thought Stafford, "Ok, point taken."  
"Great. Now what do we do?"  
"Obviously," said T'Parief, "we must go back and free everybody else."  
"You mean kill them," said Jall.  
"Only in the dream world."  
"Just checking."  
"We already tried that," said Stafford, "we got our asses kicked."  
"Why?" asked Noonan.  
"We were outnumbered and outgunned," said T'Parief, "We had kitchen utensils. They had lightening, fire and very heavy objects."  
"Yes, but why? asked Noonan.  
"Why what?" snapped T'Parief.  
"Why did they have those things? Why couldn't you?"  
"Hold on," said Stafford, "Before she went nuts, Wowryk mentioned something called 'lucid dreaming' to me. She was able to concentrate on what she wanted, and it happened. I managed to summon a water piston before everything went insane, but when I tried it afterwards it wouldn't work. And it sure looked like she was concentrating really hard on something when all hell broke loose."  
"If they are able to have their will done at, uh, will then they are more dangerous than we thought," said Fifebee.  
"Still," said Jall, "Commander Noonan's right. Why can't we do that?"  
"Did you bother to try?" asked Fifebee.  
"Actually," replied Jall, "no."  
"Big surprise," growled T'Parief.  
"The Captain was still fully immersed in the device matrix when he made his second attempt. It's possible that Dr. Wowryk was blocking him from using those abilities. From her point of view you all died in a failed attempt at rebellion. If she considers you dead, she may not be blocking you."  
"Or," said T'Parief, "if we get enough people trying it she may not be able to block us all."  
"If we hit that place with some heavy weaponry we'd have a much better chance of getting everybody out," Stafford said with growing excitement.  
"We need to focus on weapons that she is unfamiliar with," said T'Parief, "otherwise she and her Mistresses may be able to quickly develop strategies to counter us."  
"Fine," said Stafford, "T'Parief and Jall, you're on weapons detail. Look through the databases for anything fictional, obscure, obsolete, whatever. She probably has a good understanding of current weapons since she's a doctor and has to be able to heal their effects. Fifebee, you research lucid dreaming. Find out anything you can that will help us control that realm, then start coaching all the conscious male crewmembers."  
"What about the females sir? asked Fifebee.  
"We can't risk Wowryk controlling them again," said Stafford, "Um, we are reasonably sure she was controlling them, right?"  
Everybody exchanged glances.  
"I dunno," said Jall.  
"S**t," said Stafford, "Ok. Noonan, you need to have a talk with the ladies. Make sure they're back to normal, and that normal doesn't include enslaving and torturing us. If they're OK then we'll need them to handle the ship while we're gone."  
"Understood."  
"I was under the impression," said Fifebee, "that some human males enjoy being enslaved and tortured by females."  
Stafford made a face. Noonan chuckled.  
"I think it's only fun when there's sex involved," said T'Parief.  
"And Dr. Wowryk is not including sex in her world?" asked Fifebee.  
"About as much as she includes it reality," said Jall.  
"Moving on," said Stafford. He turned to Noonan, "Stick around for a minute," he turned to address the other officers, "All right everybody, we'll meet in Cargo Bay 2 in 90 minutes. Dismissed.  
"Excellent command performance sir," said Fifebee on her way out."  
"Yeah," muttered Jall, "Too bad half the staff wasn't here to see it."  
"Go away."  
Everybody but Noonan and Stafford left the room.  
"Is something bothering you, Captain?" asked Noonan.  
"Oh yeah," said Stafford, "this is really f**ked up."  
"I think sir, that encountering the f**ked up is the Starfleet way."  
"That argument aside," said Stafford with a small grin, "I'm not happy with the ramifications of this. We don't know who did this, why, or what any lasting effects might be. And why are things unfolding this way?"  
"What do you mean?"  
Stafford started to pace. "A Starfleet crew is supposed to be a team. A closely knit group of people who support and respect each other and work together to achieve their goals."  
"Our crew did an excellent job of getting this ship ready for launch on time, " Noonan pointed out."  
"Yeah," said Stafford, "And now they're killing each other!"  
"That's not reality, Captain."  
"No, it's not. But it still came from us!" Stafford was circling the table now, "The nightmares, the Possessed, those things all came from our memories and experiences. Dr. Wowryk created a group of all-powerful super-women. But the violence, the killing, the hatred…how much of that is being generated by that damned interspace thing, and how much is really us?"  
Noonan was getting dizzy watching Stafford pace around the table.  
"I thought nothing of smashing poor Betty's head in with a frying pan!" shouted Stafford, "I'm not a murderer! Or a security officer! I'm a nice guy! Killing people is NOT something I enjoy, but I just walked up and BANG! You're dead! And all I could say was 'Gee, I'm sure glad that didn't make a mess'!  
"I think you're answering your own question," said Noonan, "Were you upset in the dream world after you killed her?"  
"No."  
"Are you upset now that you're back in reality?"  
"Yes."  
Noonan crossed his arms. Stafford chuckled slightly.  
"You're right. That's very reassuring."  
"I'm here to serve."  
"Do you think Dr. Wowryk will be OK when she gets out?" Stafford asked.  
"She's more heavily immersed in the cortical induction field that anybody else,' replied Noonan, "I suspect she will be all right but nothing is ever certain. Does it matter to you?"  
Stafford thought for a moment.  
"Yeah," he said, "It does. We don't get along, but she is a good doctor when she puts her mind to it. She's a good friend according to Ensign Yanick. It's hard to imagine Queen Wowryk and Dr. Wowryk as being the same person. Queen Wowryk is taking things to extremes that Dr. Wowryk would never go to. Well, I hope she wouldn't."  
"I think many people are going to be shaken up when they awaken," said Noonan, "but dreams fade quickly."  
"Yeah, they do."

Dreamland

Queen Wowryk stood at the window in her throne room, looking out at the grassy green fields, dark green forests and the sparkling blue lake surrounding her palace. This really was such a beautiful place. And she would keep it that way!  
"You Majesty," came a voice behind her.  
Wowryk turned to see Trish Yanick kneeling before the throne.  
"Oh really honey," said Wowryk as she walked over, "you don't have to kneel! That's for the boys. Speaking of which, have they been taken care of?"  
"Yes, Majesty," replied Trish, "We executed several of the rebels, including the Captain and returned the rest to the holding cells."  
Wowryk sighed, "I do so hate violence. But they brought it upon themselves. Foolish, primitive men."  
"Majesty, I don't mean to question your plan," Trish said cautiously.  
"Oh, please do," said Wowryk, "a woman's viewpoint is always welcome."  
"Thank you, Majesty," said Trish, "but with the heavy restrictions you've placed on sex, how are we to reproduce? We must have children to carry on the beauty of your world."  
Wowryk laughed, "Oh really, Sister, you must read the Decree more carefully. A woman is entitled to take a husband and mate with him for breeding purposes. All will be well."  
"You are wise, your Highness," said Trish as she lowered her eyes.  
"And don't you forget it!"

Reality

Captain's Log, Stardate 51677.4

"More than 75% of the crew is still under the influence of the alien device. Lieutenant Fifebee and Lieutenant Commander T'Parief are preparing our male crewmembers to return to the dream realm and defeat Queen Wowryk. Commander Noonan is of the opinion that our conscious female counterparts were working under the influence of the Queen and have returned to normal now that they have been awakened. They'll be taking care of the ship while the rest of us go into battle. Oh, and Starfleet, one more thing: WE WERE RIGHT, AND YOU WERE WRONG!"

Stafford walked into Cargo Bay 2. The 75 crewmen who would be venturing into Dreamland were standing clustered around padds memorizing weapons, armor and handy gadget to bring into the battle. Stafford walked over to where Fifebee and T'Parief were standing near the alien device.  
"We ready yet?" asked Stafford.  
"Yes," said T'Parief, "As soon as you study these and select a weapon."  
"A weapon huh?" Stafford took the padd from T'Parief and starting thumbing through.  
"'Piranha Launcher?' Shock Rifle? Shrink-Ray? BFG 2K? What the hell is this stuff?" asked Stafford.  
"You told me to include fictional sources," said T'Parief.  
"I want the Shrink-Ray!' Jall piped in excitedly.  
"Whatever," said Stafford, "The Piranha Launcher sounds interesting enough. 'Strip your enemies to the bone in microseconds'! Yuck! Oh well, let's go. Fifebee, send us in."  
Fifebee hit the 'Reconnect' button on the device, causing all 75 crewmen to lose consciousness and drop to the deck.  
"I really must remember to warn them next time," Fifebee muttered to herself.

Dreamland

Stafford and his army materialized on the broad, grassy plain in front of the castle gates. The drawbridge was down over the sparkling blue moat, but the massive gates were closed.  
T'Parief turned to address the troops, "Now, concentrate! Envision what you want, what you must have to win the fight!"  
Stafford closed his eyes and focused. piranha gun….piranha gun…what a stupid idea He tried to make a mental image of him wearing the cumbersome device he'd seen.  
Stafford felt a heavy weight on his back. He opened his eyes and saw the heavy cylindrical barrel of the weapon connected to the fish tank strapped to his back. All around him weapons and armor were appearing on or around his crew.  
"YES!" shouted Stafford.  
"Excellent" grubled T'Parief.  
A frilly white French maid's uniform suddenly materialized on Jall.  
"Ok," Jall said, "who's bright f**king idea was this?"  
One ensign shyly raised his hand and blushed.  
Stafford rolled his eyes.  
"Can we please stay on topic here?" he snapped, "Squad, quick march!"  
The small army started advancing on the castle. Stafford turned around to address them while walking backwards.  
"All right," he said, "this isn't going to be pretty! There are people in there we hate and people in there we respect, like or love. Remember that this IS just a bad dream, and if we kill everybody it will all go away."  
"Marching to merciless slaughter," T'Parief said with a sniff, "my Andorian grandparents would be so proud."  
"Yeah, well, have fun while it lasts," said Stafford, " cuz when we get back to reality we will not be doing any more of THIIIISSSSSS!" Stafford yelled as he tumbled backward into the castle moat. He grabbed at the bank and worked to pull himself and the heavy gun out of the water.  
"The bridge is about another 10 feet to your left," said Jall.  
Stafford glared at Jall and proceeded to the bridge.  
"Look out!" somebody shouted.  
Stafford bolted to his left, narrowly missing being fried by a large lightning bolt. Up on the castle ramparts was a single Royal Mistress.  
"Invaders!" she shrieked, "surrender or die!"  
"Been there, done that," muttered Jall.  
"Take this!" yelled Stafford. He pointed the barrel of his piranha cannon at her and pulled the trigger. The gun bucked, releasing three ravenous little fish and a bucket of water. The fish flew at the Mistress but fell back to the ground before even reaching her, flopping at Stafford's feet.  
"I thought this gun was a stupid idea!" muttered Stafford.  
"Allow me!" roared T'Parief. He aimed his BFG (Big F**king Gun) 2K at the Mistress and pulled the trigger. T'Parief was knocked flat on his back as a massive ball of green energy belched from the weapon and flew overhead. Pulsing green beams shot out from the ball searching for targets and frying several of Stafford's men.  
"Duck!" shouted Stafford.  
The ball hit the castle wall just below the ramparts and exploded, vaporizing the wall, the castle gates, the Mistress and most of Stafford's army.

Queen Wowryk was sitting down to dinner with her Mistresses and the other members of her Royal Court. The meal set out before them should have been extravagant, the result of hours of male toil. Unfortunately it was mostly inedible due to the fact that none of the men preparing it had ever cooked without a replicator before.  
"Oh dear," said Wowryk, "this will just not do." She waved her hands over her head and closed her eyes. The table transformed into a perfectly set arrangement of perfectly prepared health-conscious foods. The Court applauded politely.  
"That's much better," said Wowryk with a smile. She sighed, "We love our men, but sometimes they're just too limited!" The Court responded with a titter of laughter.  
"We will educate them properly, Your Highness," said Trish from Wowyk's right hand side."  
"Oh, I know you will," said Wowryk, "you have all been doing wonderful work so far! Simon, come in here."  
Jeffery walked in wearing his black shorts, looking at the floor.  
"See here the perfectly trained male," said Wowryk, "Simon, are you happy?"  
"Yes, Your Majesty," Simon said.  
"Don't I take care of you?"  
"Yes, Your Majesty,"  
"Hop on one leg," commanded Wowryk. Simon started jumping on one leg.  
"Bark like a dog," commanded Wowryk. Simon started barking.  
"Do a backflip!" Simon stopped jumping and flipped backward. The ladies of the Court applauded politely.  
"It just takes work and patience," said Wowryk with a laugh, "Simon, you may depart." Simon bowed and walked out.  
The ladies began eating their salad (with low-carb croutons and dressing). The castle gave a harsh shudder. The ladies looked around at each other in confusion. A Mistress ran into the dining hall.  
"You Majesty, we're under attack!" she gasped.  
"By what?" demanded Wowryk.  
"The Captain and his rag-tag army have returned!"  
"I thought you killed them!" snapped Wowryk, glaring at Yanick.  
"We did!" Yanick insisted, "I incinerated him myself!"  
Wowryk closed her eyes and concentrated. After a moment her eyes snapped back open again. "I can't feel them!" she said, "What's going on? No matter! Gather the Royal Mistresses and send them to defend the castle!"

Reality

Nobody even bothered to climb up off the floor this time.  
"Way to go, numb nuts!" Jall snapped in T'Parief's general direction, "With friends like you, who needs enemies?"  
"I am NOT your friend!" T'Parief shot back.  
Jall rolled his eyes, "It was an figure of spreech, you-"  
"Fifebee," Stafford cut in, "We need back in ASAP, before she has time to prepare. Can we try some more effective weapons this time guys, please?"  
"Mine was effective," said T'Parief.  
"Gentlemen," cut in Fifebee, "please recline comfortably and ensure that your tray tables are in their upright and locked positions."  
Stafford looked at her with a puzzled and annoyed expression on his face. "Huh?"  
"Nevermind," Fifebee muttered as she sent them back into Dreamland, "my sense of humor is SO unappreciated."

Dreamland

Stafford once again found himself on the grassy plain. The scene was a bit different this time around though. The castle gates were a smoldering ruin. Those who had not been vaporized in T'Pariefs attach on the castle were wandering around aimlessly, firing a few half-hearted shots at the castle. The drawbridge was burning and he could hear an alarm bell of some type clanging away.  
"Ok boys," shouted Stafford, "regroup! Arm yourselves!"  
Stafford focused hard. This time a high power phaser rifle materialized.  
"Much better," he said.  
Once again the troops donned a varied of armor and weapons. Jall had clung to his Shrink-Ray, while T'Parief had gone for a low-tech rocket launcher.  
"Let's kick some ass!" roared T'Parief.  
"Um, right," said Jall, "you do realize the bridge is a burnt out ruin?"  
"Watch and learn, little man!"  
T'Parief ran full tilt at the moat and leapt 30 feet across to land perfectly at the ruined gate. He gave a wave and gestured the others to follow him.  
"Just will yourself across!" he shouted, "It's all about self-control!"  
Stafford and Jall ran towards the bridge. Stafford sailed over the moat, landed next to T'Parief and quickly moved out of the way for the next person. He spun around, hoping to see Jall splash into the moat.  
Instead, Jall flew over the moat, soared into the air and crashed into the castle wall. Stafford giggled as he slid down to the gound.  
"Nice landing!"  
"Incoming!" shouted Lieutenant Stern. A phalanx of 9 Mistresses was quickly running across the Inner Courtyard towards them.  
"Fire at will!" yelled Stafford. He targeted the closest Mistress with his phaser rifle and opened fire.  
Unfortunately for him, his target help up a hand and deflected the phaser blast away.  
"You'll have to do better than that!" she snapped.  
Jall opened fire with his Shrink-Ray. The Mistress tried to ward the shot away, but instead it soaked into her palm. She quickly shrunk down to a 3-inch height and was trampled by the Mistresses behind her.  
"Crushed like a bug!" sang Jall in triumph.  
"That's just sick!" wailed Stafford.  
"Submit, or die!" hollered one of the Mistresses. Stafford quickly identified her as Ensign Cornwall.  
"C'mon, that's getting so old!" Stafford shot back, "T'Parief, take them out!"  
T'Parief fired the rocket launcher. The projectile missed all the women, but hit the ground beneath them. The explosion tossed vanishing bodies into the air.  
"YES!" shouted T'Parief, "I am SOO basing a holodeck program on this!"

Unknown to the group on the ground, the Mistresses led by Ensign Cornwall were nothing but a distraction. While the men fought it out with them more female warriors had snuck along the top on the outer wall, effectively surrounding then male army in the Inner Courtyard.  
Trish Yanick was leading the attack force and called out to the crowd below,  
"Captain Stafford!" she yelled, "Surrender, or die!"  
"God," yelled Stafford, "don't you people ever shut up! For the last time, WE WON'T F**KING SURRENDER!"  
"FINE!" Yanick snapped back, "Be that way! Girls, attack!"  
Stafford, Jall and T'Parief ran at top speed, dodging lightening bolts, fireballs, crashing safes and even a few flying porcupines. Most of the other troops weren't as lucky. By the time Stafford's force reached the gate to the castle itself he was down to less than a dozen men. For their trouble, they had been able to eliminate one Mistress for every 8 men lost.  
"OK," said Stafford, "they'll be back in a minute or two. At least our people will be. They can keep the Mistresses out there busy, but we can't sit around waiting. We need to find more of the guys and free them." He started walking down the lavish hall, hunting for a stairway down to the dungeon.  
"They will be useless in battle until they have been removed at least once from the system," said T'Parief.  
"Big deal," said Stafford, "they'll come back. As long as our guys keep coming back in, and the gals keep going on out, we'll win for sure."  
"You're forgetting something Captain," said Jall.  
"What?" asked Stafford, "My plan is perfect! We have an immortal army, infinite weapons and when we swat them down Fifebee and Noonan can ensure that they can't come back! We cannot lose!"  
"He said it," Jall muttered to himself, "he said we can't lose. We're boned!"  
The group turned the corner and came face to face..well, OK, face-to-tangled-hair with Queen Wowryk's army of the Possessed.

Reality

"'We can't lose' he says! You NEVER say s**t like that!" Jall yelled at Stafford, "It's just asking for trouble!"  
"Oh yeah?" Stafford shot back, "Maybe it was you THINKING that we were 'boned' that caused it to happen! You wanted it, it happened!"  
"Hey, don't you try to pin this on me!"  
"That was fun!" said T'Parief with a grin, "Can we do that again?"  
"And again, and again," said Stafford in a tired voice, "Fifebee, until all the ladies have been freed, as soon as a male crewmember is disconnected from the system I want you to send him right back in."  
"Aye sir," replied Fifebee, "Have a nice trip!"

Dreamland

Stafford, T'Parief and Jall once again ducked, rolled and made other 'hero moves' as they re-entered the Inner Courtyard. A pitched battle was still raging. Most of the Mistresses had been picked off the upper walls but the Possessed poured out of the castle entrance. On the other hand Silverado crewmen continued to pour in the outer gate as quickly as they were killed.  
"It is a standoff," T'Parief growled, "We shall be locked in battle for eternity!"  
"We should open up an Andorian Amusement Park here, " Jall quipped.  
Stafford cocked his head as he considered Jall's suggestion, "Y'know, that's not a bad…oh for f**k sake, what am I thinking? SHUT UP!" Stafford smacked Jall upside the head.  
"On a serious note," interjected T'Parief, "We're not winning here. We need to free the remaining slaves and kill the Queen, not spend the day fighting these things."  
"Right," said Stafford, "let's split up. I'm going after Queen Wowryk, not because I want to kill her, but because I want to help her."  
"Yeah right," muttered Jall.  
"You two," Stafford went on, "work together. Get down into the dungeons and free whoever you find."  
"Not to pass up a good fight," rumbled T'Parief, "but I doubt we're getting back in the front way again."  
"I was just planning on leaping up onto the outer wall and getting in that way," said Stafford, "but you two should find a separate route. Y'know, strategy and all that s**t"  
"No problem," said Jall, "I have a plan!"  
T'Parief looked uneasily at Jall. "Um, captain, can I come with you instead?"  
"No," said Stafford, "I'm sick of both of you. Go rescue people. And try not to kill each other."  
"As Chief of Security, I should be protecting you!" objected T'Parief.  
"Yeah, right," said Stafford, '"last time I checked Starfleet Security didn't offer protection against nightmares or the boogey-man.  
"Actually," said T'Parief, "the boogey-man was defeated in 2283 by the crew of the U.S.S.-"  
"Oh shut up and get going!" snapped Stafford. He concentrated for a moment, then leapt 30 feet up onto the outer wall.  
"Nice trick!" commented Jall.  
"Hmph. So what is your brilliant idea?" asked T'Parief.  
"Find the back door. It's so simple, it can't fail," replied Jall. He skirted the edge of the battle and slipped into an alley running between the castle itself and the outer wall. Muttering to himself, T'Parief followed.

Stafford crouched down as he jogged across the outer wall, trying to stay below the ramparts. He was just f**king sick of this dream already. It FELT real, and his crew was slaughtering each other, over and over again. This had to stop!  
Ducking into a doorway he found himself in yet another lavishly decorated corridor. He flattened himself behind a velvet curtain as a trio of Mistresses ran out onto the outer wall. For a brief moment he considered taking them out, but dream or not he couldn't bring himself to shoot his own people in the back. Let somebody who might enjoy it do the dirty work, then feel guilty when they woke up.  
But where was the Queen? The mastermind behind this whole mess? Stafford opened the first door he found.  
"Holy hell!" he shouted, jumping back. Two of the Possessed stumbled out towards him. Two quick shots from his phaser rifle blew them to bits.  
Having dispatched the creatures Stafford stepped inside.  
"Hello?" he called, "Dr. Wowryk?"  
The room appeared to be empty. It was a luxurious bedroom with a huge bed done up in red velvet, thick curtains framing a huge window that looked out over the forest, a huge closet filled with gowns and robes and a large marble dressing table. There was also a large pillow on the floor at the foot of the bed. Simon Jeffery was curled up on the pillow in his black slave shorts. Stafford lowered his weapon and walked over.  
"Simon?" asked Stafford. He gave Jeffery a nudge with the toe of his boot. "Wake up!"  
"I am awake and ready to serve," Jeffery started, "Hey! You're not the Queen! Guards! Help! Intruders!"  
Stafford jumped at Jeffery and clamped a hand over his mouth.  
"Shut up you idiot!" snapped Stafford. Jeffery threw a hard punch into Stafford's stomach. Stafford fell back as the air rushed out of him, dropping the rifle to the ground. He grabbed at Jeffery's ankles as the smaller man tried to run for the door. Jeffery hit the floor in a heap, then rolled over and pounced at Stafford.  
"Why do you resist!" snarled Jeffery, "My Lady offers us all a better life!"  
"You're a f**king slave!" shouted Stafford, "And this isn't real!"  
Stafford was bigger than Jeffery, but Jeffery was much stronger, being an engineer and all. Stafford found himself forced onto his stomach as Jeffery pinned him to the floor.  
"What do you mean 'not real'?" asked Jeffery.  
"It's an illusion!" Stafford gasped, 'We're in a fantasy realm created by an alien device and controlled by Dr. Wowryk! It's all her! We have to take her out to save everybody!"  
"You're lying!" screamed Jeffery, "This IS reality, and I will NOT let you harm Her Majesty!"  
Jeffery dug his knee in Stafford's back. Dammit! thought Stafford, She's got him good! I mean bad…I mean OW! Stupid knee! I don't wanna die again…  
Staffords back creaked as Jeffery applied more pressure. He needed to get out of this! He needed Jeffery back on his side. He wanted his friend back! Wanted….that's it! Stafford focused his thoughts on one want: I WANT HIM BACK! I WANT HIM OUT OF HER CONTROL!

Queen Wowryk was in her throne room. Her remaining Mistresses were running in and out, bringing status updates from the raging battle in the Inner Courtyard.  
"We're holding them off!" said Trish Yanick breathlessly, "Barely! We're running out of Misstresses. They just keep coming back!"  
"How is that possible!" wailed Wowryk. She closed her eyes and summoned another 50 of the Possessed. "When you kill somebody, they should stay dead!"  
"I don't know, Highness," said Yanick, "But without your minions, we would have been overthrown by now!"  
Wowryk covered her face in her hands. "Why?" she sobbed, "All I'm guilty of of trying to create a paradise for women! Why do the men fight back this way?"  
"Maybe because you enslaved them, Your Highness," suggested a woman nearby. With a wave of her hand Wowryk sent a half-hearted lightening bolt at the woman then resumed sobbing.  
Suddenly, she snapped her head up. "NO!" she shouted at the air, "You can't have him! He's mine!"

You can't have him! He's mine! shouted the voice in Stafford's head. He winced from the volume and fury and redoubled his efforts. Free him…free him…FREE HIM!  
Jeffery wavered, but kept Stafford pinned to the ground.

Jall and T'Parief had circled the inner castle and located a small kitchen entrance in the back. They found several of their comrades washing dishes and cleaning up while being guarded by two of the Possessed. Jall fired his Shrink-Ray at one of the creatures, reducing it to the size of a pepper shaker. T'Parief nailed the other one with his new rail-gun, but not before it had sunk it's teeth into one of the former slaves. The man blinked, the leapt at T'Parief, snarling. The reptile security officer blew him back to reality.  
Jall walked over to where the tiny Possessed was gnawing on Crewman Smith's boot. He crushed it with one well placed stomp.  
"Yuck!" said Smith with disgust.  
"Eww!" moaned Jall, "I got creature guts on my boot!"  
"Only real people vanish, you moron!" snapped T'Parief, "Stop whining. Let's go."  
They jogged down the corridor towards the dungeons, encountering the occasional Possessed guard, but no Mistresses or other members of the Royal Court. They were followed by a growing crowd of slaved that had been rescued.  
"Where is everybody?" asked Jall.  
"Probably in battle," rumbled T'Pareif.  
"Oh yeah," said Jall, "That would make sense."  
They finally reached the dungeons. Again. This time there was only a small group of Possessed guards. Jall started firing shink beams at them. T'Parief, sick of just pointed and shooting, threw his weapon aside, extended his claws and ran into battle.  
"Watch out!" shouted one of the crewmen as Jall continued to shoot at the creatures now battling T'Parief. A stray shinking beam hit T'Parief square in the back.  
"Oops," muttered Jall. He took out the last remaining creature and walked carefully over.  
Looking down at the floor, he saw a tiny T'Parief claw the last creature to pieces, then look around in a panic.  
"What has happened to me!?" he squeaked.  
Jall reached down, plucked T'Parief off the ground and dropped him in the palm of his hand. "Cool!" he exclaimed as he examined the 3-inch tall officer.  
"You incompetent buffoon!" squealed T'Parief, "What have you done! I will get you for this!"  
"Aww," said Jall, "He's so cute! Who's the little reptile? Huh? Who's the little reptile! "  
"That's probably not a good idea," muttered Smith.  
"Why?" asked Jall, "Hey! OWWW!" T'Parief had started chewing on his finger.  
Suddenly Jal felt a great weight in his hand. He dropped T'Parief to the floor as the security chief boomed back to his regular size. He grabbed Jall's gun and snapped it over his knee.  
"Watch where you point that thing!" he snarled as he handed the broken pieces back.  
Jall concentrated for a second, causing his busted weapon to mend itself back together. Sticking his tongue out at T'Parief's retreating back he started to unlock the remaining cells. The entire remaining male portion of the Silverado's crew had finally been rescued!  
"It's about time you people got back!"  
Jall looked to the source of the weak voice. It was Steven, the Silverado's bartender. He was lying on a cot at the back of one cell, looking a bit fried from the energy bolts that had been fired at him. Evidently he had survived Stafford's initial rebellion, only to be recaptured rather than killed.  
"Heya Steven," said Jall, "how's it going?"  
Steven glared weakly at him, "Kitchen slave! She wouldn't even make me the Royal Bartender! Said that alcohol was 'evil'! And what the heck took you so long? I'm hurting!"  
"Poor guy," Jall said to T'Parief, "do you know first aid? We should really do something for him."  
"We will," said T'Parief. He raised his gun towards Steven.  
"NO! Not that!" yelled Jall, "He's not that badly hurt! He can make it! He…..oh. Right. As soon as he wakes up in the real world, he'll be fine."  
T'Parief pulled the trigger. Steven vanished, then reappeared whole and healthy.

All across the dream world, Silverado crewmen noticed the difference. Rather than getting sent back out to the grassy green plain after their 'deaths', they were reappearing exactly where they had 'died'. With all her attention focused on summoning more of the Possessed and fighting Captain Stafford, Wowryk was weakening.

"That was odd," said Steven, "But hey, thanks, I feel much better now."  
"My pleasure," grunted T'Parief.  
"Um, what was that?" asked Jall.  
"I suspect that the Queen is weakening. She can no longer keep as at arms length."  
"Are you sure?"  
T"Parief brought his rifle up and blasted Jall right between the eyes. He reappeared seconds later.  
"Pretty sure," said T'Pareif with a grin.  
"A**hole," muttered Jall.  
"Listen up!" barked T'Pareif, ignoring Jall, "We're going to assault the Queen! If she is distracted, as it seems, we have a shot a defeating her!" He closed his eyes. A pile of hand phasers appeared as his feet.  
"Hmm," he growled, "those were supposed to be Gorn Death-Rays. But they will have to do." He handed out the weapons and led the way out of the dungeon.  
T'Parief remembered the route to the Throne Room from his initial capture. He led his army relentlessly down the corridors, blasting any who crossed his path. Finally, they found themselves at the Throne Room doors.  
"Brace yourselves!" T'Parief whispered, "This will be a mighty battle!" He flung the doors open and charged in, firing at random.  
"INVADERS!" screamed Yanick, "Attack!"  
The Mistresses reporting to Wowryk turned their attention on the invading men. Lightning flared and fireballs roared, but every man dropped in battled re-appeared seconds later.  
Wowryk was still on her throne, her head in her hands whispering over and over again: "You can't have him…you can't have him…"  
Yanick grabber her by the shoulders and shook her. "Majesty, we need your help! You must repel them!"  
Distracted by Yanick, Wowryk felt her last sliver of control over Jeffery break.  
"Noooo!" she wailed. Fury rose within her. She stood from her throne, energy crackling from her fingertips, wind whipping her hair into a fury. She lashed out at the invaders. This time, those who vanished did not reappear. It was over soon.  
"You beat them!" said Yanick with a smile.  
"But I lost my pet!" cried Wowryk.

"So much for that," muttered Jall. He was back out on the grassy green. Dozens of men appeared around him.  
"I think we pissed her off," said Steven.  
"No s**t!"

Stafford suddenly felt Wowryk disappear from his mind. Jeffery gave a jolt, then toppled off of Stafford. Stafford picked himself up.  
"Hey," he said as he nudged Jeffery with his boot, "Are you you again?"  
"Oy," croaked Jeffery, "What the hell was I thinkin'?"  
"You were the willing slave of our insane doctor in this imaginary dreamland," said Stafford, "Damned if I know what the hell you were thinking!"  
"I wanna go home!" wailed Jeffery, "How do we get out of here?"  
"Easy," said Stafford, "We die. But first we have to take your 'Lady' out, so we can get everybody back to the Silverado where they belong!"  
"Um, die?" asked Jeffery, "is that a good idea?"  
"It's a dream. Don't worry about it. Let's go end this"  
Stafford stepped back out into the hall and realized he had no idea which way to go.  
"This way," said Jeffery.  
"Hold it," said Stafford, "the throne room had a balcony. Can you get me up there?"  
"Sure," replied Jeffery, "No problem."  
He led Stafford down the corridor to a gorgeous staircase. Stafford quickly placed it as an exact replica of the Grand Staircase from the RMS Titanic.  
"That's funny," muttered Jeffery, "Could have sworn this wasn't like this before."  
"Whatever," said Stafford.  
Jeffery led him through a maze of hallways, then through a small door into the balcony overlooking the throne room. They crept slowly across the floor and peeked over the edge. Queen Wowryk was back on her throne, concentrating as she summoned more Possessed to replace those lost on the battlefield. Her face was still wet with tears.  
"Do you trust me?" Stafford whispered.  
"This isn't the time for guessing games!" Jeffery whispered back.  
"I'll take that as a 'yes'. Just play along."  
Stafford stood up and pulled Jeffery to his feet. He pressed his phaser rifle up under Jeffery's chin.  
"Hey, Queen Bitch of the Universe!" Stafford shouted, "Still want him back?"  
"You!" screamed Wowyrk. She unleashed a bold of lightening. Stafford held up a hand and deflected it.  
"I'm learning your game pretty well, Noel!" Stafford yelled down at her, "But try that again and I'll blow his head off!"  
"Big deal!" sneered Wowryk, "he'll be back! Just like the rest of you freakish men!"  
"Oh yes, he'll be back," replied Stafford, "but completely beyond your control. You can still sense him now, can't you? You want him back! I can tell. But if I kill him now he'll be like the rest of us, out of your reach forever!"  
"Shoot him!" snarled one of the few remaining Mistresses, "He's just a man!"  
"I….I…." Wowryk was stammering.  
Some help please! Stafford thought as hard as he could, willing for T'Parief, Jall, ANYBODY to hear him.

Jall and T'Parief were in the Inner Courtyard again, fighting the legions of the Possessed. Men were once again re-appearing where they fell. T'Parief had again abandoned his weapon and was using his claws. The ranks of men had filled considerably; the entire male complement of the Silverado crew was now at his side.  
"Jall!" T'Parief roared.  
"What?" Jall shouted back. He had an old fashioned shotgun and was blasting Possessed to pieces.  
"I THINK WE'RE WINNING!"  
Indeed, the number of creatures fighting in the courtyard decreased as the flow coming out of the inner castle slowed, then stopped.  
Somebody help please!  
"Hey, did you hear that?" shouted Steven.  
"Yes!" T'Parief roared, "To the Throne Room!"

"I don't think you want me to kill him!" Stafford was stalling now, "He's, um, the only man that understood what you were trying to do!"  
"You've corrupted him!" accused Trish, "He was the perfect man! Docile, obedient and non-violent!"  
"You can have him back!" Stafford said, "End this! Take us back to the real world!"  
"This IS the real world!" snapped Trish.  
"No! She created this world! She's controlling all of you!"  
"LIAR!" Yanick flipped her wrist, sending a small knife flying across the room and into Jeffery's chest. Jeffery gasped and slumped in Staffords grip. Unable to hold him, Stafford let him slip to the floor below.  
"NOO!" wailed Wowryk. She ran to where Jeffery lay on the floor. Blood trickled from his mouth. He started reaching for her with one arm and then vanished.  
"Hey, that wasn't my fault!" said Stafford from up on the balcony.  
"Kill him!" ordered Yanick.  
At that moment the Throne Room doors slammed open and T'Parief came charging through, followed by dozens of armed men. Wowryk stumbled back onto her chair. Yanick and the last Mistresses put up a good fight, but it was over in seconds.  
Stafford leapt down from the balcony and walked over to where Wowryk was slumped on her throne.  
"It's over Noel," he said gently, "We've defeated your Mistresses and your army."  
"I want to go home…" she said in a small voice, then vanished.  
Stafford and T'Parief looked at each other.  
"I guess we're done," said Stafford.  
The room started to tremble, then shake.  
"Earthquake!" somebody shouted.  
Jeffery reappeared at Stafford's side.  
"Fifebee wants me to tell ye that all the ladies, including Dr. Wowryk are safely back in the real world and that you may return home at your leisure."  
"Um, great, but we're kind having a problem here!"  
As Stafford spoke a swirling vortex suddenly appeared over the empty throne. Wind rushed past him into the gaping maw. Bits of furniture, paintings, and other debris flew past him. Suddenly a tall masked figure fell out of the vortex wearing long black robes and a white ghost mask.  
"I don't know what that is, but you better shoot it!" Jall shouted at T'Parief.  
T'Parief blasting the thing into oblivion. What was left was sucked back into the vortex.  
"This world is falling apart!" shouted Stafford over the din, "Wowryk was all that held it together! We've got to get out!"  
"Yes sir!" said T'Parief. He leveled his rail-gun at Jall and pulled the trigger. "Always ready to do my duty!" he said as Jall vanished.  
A grey cartoon mouse flew out of the vortex. It was carrying a large, bloody hatchet in its white gloved hands. It scampered up to a shocked Ensign and buried the hatched deep in his chest. The young man vanished.  
"Ah know we gotta die," said Jeffery, "but Ah can think of less painful ways than that!"  
"Uh-huh!" Stafford agreed. They followed the rest of the men as they raced out of the Throne Room.

The several hundred men had split in several directions. The hallways, once uniformly perfect, were now a mismatch of Castle Wowryk, various alien ships, haunted houses from childhood memories and caves from various alien planets.  
"Ah don't like this!" wailed Jeffery as a black bat fluttered around his head.  
"We've just gotta die!" said Stafford, "Man, how often do people wish for that?"  
There was another shudder. A girl with long blond hair came flipping down the corridor, stabbing several crewmen with a sharp, pointy stick. They screamed, then vanished.  
"I think this place is going to kill us without much trouble!" said Stafford.  
"But Ah don't wanna get stabbed!" objected Jeffery.  
"Oh, don't be such a baby! T'Parief, no offense, but you're the big, cold-blooded reptile with the violent bloodlines. How about a killing spree? A merciful, painless-death killing spree, followed by a ritual suicide?"  
T'Parief grinned. "I know relatives on both sides of my family tree who would give their left reproductive gland for an order like that!"

Reality

Stafford sat up in the cargo bay. Fifebee was still standing by the alien gizmo, watching the growing list of 'Disconnected Users'. Stafford made a mental note to NEVER unleash T'Parief against anybody who didn't REALLY deserve it. Stafford had gotten so used to his calm demeanor that he had forgotten just how deadly a massive clawed reptile could be. All around him crewmen were waking up at a very rapid pace.  
Noonan walked into the cargo bay.  
"Captain!" he said warmly, "Welcome back to the land of consciousness!"  
"Nice to see you too," said Stafford, "Fifebee? How are we doing?"  
"Everybody has been successfully separated from the dream state. I can now power down the device safely," replied the hologram.  
"Be my guest!"  
Fifebee reached down towards the lower segment of the device. She located a large switch labeled 'Power' and flipped it to the 'Off' position.  
Stafford rolled his eyes.

Dr. Wowryk woke with a start. What a bizarre dream! She had been…she was…. what had she been doing? She had a nagging feeling that something terrible had happened but had no idea what it was.  
"Stafford to Wowryk," came the voice from the comm system, "How are you feeling doc?"  
"Um, a little strange," replied Wowryk, "has Fifebee solved our problem yet?"  
"Oh yeah, we're good to go," said Stafford, "Nice job on the castle by the way. Beautiful land. Except for the whole enslavement part!"  
"What are you talking about?" asked Wowryk peevishly.  
"Y'know, dreamland, Sisters of the Realm, Queen Wowryk."  
"What?"  
Stafford sighed, "Lieutenant Fifebee will be right down."

Stafford walked into Unbalanced Equations. The lounge was dark. Everybody was sleeping off their bizarre encounter. Well, almost everybody. Jeffery was curled up on one of the large armchairs facing out the window, staring out at the stars between the ship's huge nacelles.  
"Trouble sleeping?" Stafford asked.  
"Yeah," Jeffery said, "Been doing too much sleepin' ah think."  
"Ah," Stafford walked over the replicator and ordered a warm milk. The replicator yawned and asked him if he wanted a snack. Stafford politely refused, thanked the computer and sat down next to Jeffery.  
"How are ya?" asked Stafford.  
"Ah dunno," said Jeffery, "I don't remember much, but I remember that I really loved her. What she was, what she was doing, what she stood for. I was….very happy."  
"It wasn't real," said Stafford, "It was alien technology, messing with your mind."  
"No, it was her."  
"OK, well fine,' said Stafford, "So it was alien technology messing with her mind causing her to mess with your mind. Whatever!"  
"Yeah," Jeffery looked down at his cup. "Why are you still up?"  
"Me? Oh, I dunno," said Stafford, "after the chaos of the last couple of days, my quarters just seemed too quiet."  
They sat in companionable silence for few moments. Stafford let his eyes wander along the pitted, mismatched hull plates of the port nacelle. He yawned.  
"Well, I think this milk did the trick," Stafford muttered, "Go to bed Jeffery. We all need a rest."  
"In a bit."  
Stafford walked back to his quarters and fell into a deep sleep.

Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 51677.4

"We're finally free of that stupid alien gizmo. All of us! We've parked in a quiet corner of interstellar space while the crew recovers from their ordeal. Commander Noonan has been proven correct, again. Memories of the encounter have been fading fast, which is great as far as I'm concerned. The last thing I need is a real-life war of the sexes.  
Dr. Wowryk retains almost no memory of her reign as queen. Lieutenant Fifebee has been studying the effects of the device diligently."  
"As for me, well, after a long, uninterrupted snooze I'm ready for Fifebee's report."

"The device interfaced with Dr. Wowryk at levels beyond what anybody else experienced," reported Fifebee. Fifebee, Wowryk and Stafford were in Stafford's ready room. "It was linked up directly to her brain, stimultating certain personality traits while repressing others."  
"I still can't believe I would do something like that," Wowryk said shakily.  
"I would," Stafford muttered.  
Wowryk began to tear up, "You think I'm a horrible person! Well I'm not! I just want everybody to live pure, happy lives so they can reach the glory of God! Is that so wrong?"  
"Well, no…" said Stafford.  
"And I would NEVER do the kind of things you said I did! This is just awful! The whole crew hates me over something I don't even remember doing!"  
Feeling guilty, Stafford walked around his desk and sat next to Wowryk on the couch. He hesitantly put a comforting arm over her shoulder.  
"Look," he said, "we know it wasn't all you. But you have to admit, you're not all that keen on men, and you kind of have a royalty complex."  
"I would like to state for the record," said Fifebee, "that I believe that Dr. Wowryk was under the influence of alien technology and should not be held responsible for the actions of Queen Wowryk.  
Stafford thought for a moment. "I concur," he finally said, "Doc, get some rest. Have a drink, or a latte, or whatever you enjoy. Take a day off."  
"Thank you, Captain," she said, then walked out.  
"OK," said Stafford, "now that she's gone, what do you really think?"  
Fifebee frowned at Stafford, "Why would my report change?"  
"Nevermind!"  
Fifebee walked towards the doors, then paused.  
"The alien device may have selected personality factors it found…appealing, but it was still Dr. Wowryk's willpower that created that world.. Until we find out who did this, she could be in very serious danger."  
"I know," Stafford said softly.  
"Red alert! Captain Stafford to the bridge!"  
Stafford ran out onto the bridge. Commander Noonan was waiting in his chair.  
"Wow, Silverado's first red alert. I wanted to call it!" Stafford said.  
"Um, Captain," Noonan said.  
"This is the first time in decades that there has been a red alert called on this ship! I really wanted to do it!" whined Stafford.  
"Captain, unknown ship at 23 mark 7!" reported Jall.  
"Huh?" Stafford looked at the screen where a small ship was zipping into warp. "Oh! Follow them!" he ordered as he braced himself.  
Silerado's engines flared as the ship flared into ward.  
"What's going on up there!" called Jeffery from engineering, "Ah thought we weren't testing warp drive until tomorrow!"  
"Change of plans!" Stafford yelled. There was none of the bucking or shrieking like the last time Silverado used warp drive, but there was a nasty vibration. "How about smoothening the ride?"  
"Ah'm on it!"  
"We're at warp 5," reported Yanick, "They are maintaining speed."  
"Hail them!"  
"No response," said Jall.  
"Captain," rumbled T'Parief, "There is no ship there!"  
"Well there damned well looks like there is to me!"  
"It's a sensor fake. I am not picking up any ion trail."  
"Reinitialize the sensor systems!" ordered Stafford.  
T'Pareif tapped at his panel. The ship on screen vanished.  
Stafford stood up and waved his arm at the viewscreen.  
"Now what the hell was the point of that?"

Nearby….

A small ship leapt into warp, going in the exact opposite direction Silverado had just gone.  
"The decoy worked perfectly," reported the pilot, "They did not detect us detaching from their hull."  
"Excellent," replied the commander. The comm system beeped. A striking dark-haired woman appeared on the screen.  
"Report," she ordered.  
"The experiment was a success.," stated the commander, "A potential subject has been identified, although resistance was much greater than anticipated."  
"Excellent work. Return home, we will begin putting our other plans in motion.  
"As you command, Mistress."

NEXT: Horray! Finally! The Silverado's first mission! Exploring new worlds? Contacting new civilizations? Not bloody likely! Stay tuned for Star Traks, Silverdo 1.5: "Welcome to Hickville!"


	5. 5 - Welcome to Hickville

Star Traks: Silverado

1.5 - Welcome to Hickville

Captain's Log, Stardate 56195.8 "Well, I'm proud to report that we've spent several days flying around aimlessly in interstellar space without having anything blow up or go catastrophically wrong. Yet. Knock on wood. Damn, I wish I hadn't said that. Anyway, Starfleet has ordered us to go to the Rigel 6 Supply Depot where we will receive further orders. Strangely enough, Rigel 6 is the junkyard where the Silverado was kept before this whole 'Operation Salvage' crap."

Captain Chris Stafford sat in his command chair on the Silverado's bridge. His senior staff was manning their stations as they set out for their first assignment. The ship was cruising along at a steady warp 5 and Jeffery had finally gotten the worst of the vibration out of the engines. Aside from the slight jolt every time the navigational deflector kicked in he could almost believe his ship wasn't the oldest ship in the fleet.  
"Count down Ensign Yanick?" Stafford asked.  
"30 seconds Captain!" Trish Yanick said cheerefully. Yanick was the ship's helm officer. The refit had been especially boring for her and she was enjoying her chance to finally do some flying. Although Stafford had been forced to make a strict rule against pulling donuts at half the speed of light everything else was going well.  
"5...4...3...2...1..." counted Yanick.  
"5.75 LIGHT YEARS!" shouted the bridge crew. In her former life, Silverado had experienced severe structural and systems failures 5.74 light years from Earth. In an effort to improve crew morale (after they had battled each other literally to the death) Stafford had decided to make a minor celebration of overcoming that hurdle.  
"Yes!" said Jeffery happily from the rear engineering station,  
"Ah told ye, she's got her second wind now!"  
"Good work Jeffery," said Stafford, "Keep it up. I'm hoping to go much further than this!"  
"You bet!" Chief Engineer Jeffery was one of the few people who wasn't that upset about being assigned to the Silverado. From his point of view, getting a ship as old and dilapidated as the Silverado back into service was a challenge. One that he was rising to nicely.  
"All right everyone," announced Stafford, "Drinks are on me after shift!"

The Silverado flashed through space on her way to Rigel 6. She was an Ambassador-class starship, a design often overlooked by modern-day Starfleet. Although the Silverado was smaller than Galaxy-class ships like the Enterprise-D or the Explorer, it was still pretty darned big, dwarfing many of the current starship classes. It was also a very economical ship, able to travel greater distances on less fuel than its larger cousins. Although Silverado looked to be in pretty rough shape on the outside, as evidenced by her mismatched and pitted hull plating, lots of hard work had gone into refitting her for service. After a successful shakedown cruise, (successful other than the crew being trapped in a bizarre nightmare world) she had been upgraded fro"  
"Flying Deathtrap" t"  
"Pig in Space" around the Starfleet Headquarters water cooler. The flight to Rigel 6 was the first real flight of the Silverado that was actually taking them somewhere, and without chaotic nightmares to keep them busy the crew was getting bored fast.  
"So exactly what is our repair status, Jeffery?" asked Stafford for the third time in the past two days.  
"Well," replied Jeffery, "not much different from the last time you asked! Inside, we're doing pretty good. All the damaged equipment's been replaced. We are having some trouble getting the new systems to work properly with the older stuff. Our computer software is outdated, but working-"  
"Don't forget that half the decks are decorated differently!" piped in Lieutenant Jall from the Ops console."  
"And my ready room toilet is still flushing out of control," ad  
ded Stafford"  
"Hey," said Jeffery indignantly, "Ah never said we were done, just that we're doing pretty good!"  
"Ahh," said Stafford, "And our paint job?"  
"Gonna take awhile. Ah'm having trouble finding people willing to work on the outer hull when we're traveling at hundreds of times the speed of light."  
"Well hurry up!" said Stafford, "Starfleet is NEVER going let us represent the Federation to new civilizations if we look like an escapee from the junkyard!"  
"Actually sir," piped in Lieutenant Fifebee, "we ARE-"  
"Don't say it!" groaned Stafford as he fell back into his seat. Fifebee allowed herself a small, private smile. As the first sentient hologram designed to serve as a full-time Starfleet officer she was still getting used to dealing with humanoids. But she was learning well. Some members of the Silverado senior staff seemed to take a perverse pleasure in annoying one another, an activity that Fifebee was not above indulging in. It was all the more fun for her since everybody just assumed it was hologram naiveté.  
"-we doing on weapons?" Stafford was asking T'Parief. The large (2XGorn+Andorian+Klingon=Big Scary Lizard) officer grunted.  
"No change since yesterday. Standard phasers remain at 80% efficiency. Shields are at 90%. Our torpedo launchers are ready to go, we just don't have any torpedoes yet."  
"What about the pulse phaser cannon we got?"  
"It's installed on the ventral saucer, but we have no idea if the power conduits can run it."  
"Hey," said Stafford, "you never mentioned that before! Any why not? Doesn't this thing have a brand new, top-of-the-line warp core?"  
"Aye," said Jeffery.  
"Then what's the problem?"  
"The problem" said Jeffery, "is getting enough power from the core to the damned cannon. Think of it as being like trying to swallow a whole watermelon - without chewing!."  
"Oh," said Stafford, "Ouch. Well, see what you can do."

Jeffery walked down the corridor into Main Engineering. As he entered the compartment he tripped over something and tumbled to the ground. Looking back, he saw Ensign Frit Nekath, one of his midget engineers, crouched over a panel.  
"Oops," said Jeffery, "sorry about that Ensign."  
"I'm getting used to it," sighed Nekath. Ensign Nekath and the rest of the engineering team were Nicondii. Aside from being much smaller than most humanoids (about 3.5 feet tall) they had a very closely woven family structure. Multiple births of 6 or 7 babies was the norm with the siblings spending their entire lives together, following each other into the same line of work and working in the same location. The entire Alpha shift engineering team represented a single Nicondii sibling group. Jeffery couldn't imagine spending that much time with his brothers without going insane. On the other hand, trying to keep track of 6 people with the same last name wasn't helping his mental health either. Jeffery walked into his office and sat down at his desk. He started tapping through some different simulations he had come up with to properly power the pulse phaser. Given the number of hostile races in the galaxy, pulse phasers were becoming really popular with Starfleet. But they sucked a heck of a lot of juice. Jeffery looked out the office window into the engine room. He'd never noticed that Ensign Nekath had the same hair colour as Dr. Wowryk. Hmmm...Dr. Wowryk. What a woman. So powerful. So confident! Jeffery shook his head and focused back on his console. He was thinking of Queen Wowryk, not Dr. Wowryk. The woman in his mind didn't exist anymore. Had never existed, except in an artificial dream world. Plus, his feelings for the Queen had been artificially generated by the Queen anyway. Right? Jeffery wasn't so sure.

Captain's Log, Supplementa"  
"We've arrived at the outskirts of the Rigel system and are making our way under impulse power to the Rigel 6 Supply Depot. Starfleet has finally transmitted our orders. To say they're stupid is an understatement. Um, computer, better delete that last sentence. Anyway, we are to hunt through the hundreds of derelict ships for the wreck of the U.S.S. Stallion; a Constitution-class ship decommissioned years before the Silverado was even designed. We are then to tow that ship back to our old box dock where it will be repaired and reconditioned. That wreck is over 70 years old! Whose bright idea is this anyway?" The author would like to take a brief moment to laugh manically. MWA-HA-HA-HA! Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

On the main screen sat a medium sized space station. Tugs and workbees flitted in and out of the docking bays bringing in salvaged equipment from the massive depot. Rigel 6 Supply Depot consisted of two such stations at opposite ends of a massive field of shipwrecks. Each wreck was placed in a careful orbit. The whole thing hung between the planets of Rigel 6 and Rigel 7 where it was shielded from solar winds that might disrupt the carefully arranged orbits.  
"Make sure you're driving carefully," Stafford said to Yanick, "I don't want to scratch the paint!" Lieutenant Fifebee looked up from the science station.  
"But sir," said the holographic officer, "aren't we trying to remove the remaining paint?" Stafford looked blankly at Fifebee.  
"It's an expression!"  
"Oh, well pardon me for trying to help!" Fifebee muttered under her breath.  
"Lieutenant Jall, open a channel to the station." There was a pause"  
"Jall! Open a channel!"  
"Huh? Oh, channel open," replied Jall with a start.  
"Who is this?" came a dry, crackling voice over the comm..  
"Um, Captain Chris Stafford of the U.S.S. Silverado."  
"Silverado huh? MHA-HA-HA!' laughed the voice, "I knew you'd come home! They ALL come home...eventually! Come my sweet, your place is waiting just where you left it!"  
"We're not here to give you this ship back!" said Stafford, "We're here to pick up the U.S.S. Stallion."  
"Oh," the voice sounded disappointed, "well, I can't just let anybody walk in here and leave with one of my little beauties! I'll need to verify this with Command first."  
"Fine, verify away," said Stafford, "We'll be right here. Silverado out."  
"Wow," said Jall, "what a weirdo!"  
"I noticed," said Stafford, "Jall, check into the station's personnel files and see who that was."  
"OK."  
Yanick was staring at the main viewscreen. Behind the station dozens of shipwrecks could be seen. Some were decommissioned vessels, mostly intact. Others were just a few chucks of metal floating around.  
"It's kinda sad, isn't it?" she asked.  
"I suppose it is," said Stafford, "but they're just ships. It's not the technology, it's the people."  
"I resent that," said Fifebee flatly.  
"Sentient technology excluded," Noonan cut in smoothly.  
"I'm sure," she said.  
"It is kind of sad though," Noonan continued, "how many people died on those ships? What about the ships themselves? So much potential, rotting away."  
"Well," said Yanick, "at least one girl got a second chance." She patted the helm console"  
"Yeah, goody for us," said Stafford. The comm channel opened again.  
"OK, OK," came the voice, "Admiral Grant says to let you take the Stallion. You'll have a hard time doing it though! It's parked near the center of the debris field. We'll have to clear a path before you can get her out."  
"How long will that take?" asked Stafford.  
"Oh, a day or two."  
"All right. You get started on that, we'll send a team over to the Stallion to prepare her for towing," said Stafford.  
"You do that," came the voice, "but be warned: nobody who has gone to take salvage from that ship has come back, and there are radiation leaks in some of the nearby wrecks. Transporters will be useless! Ha-ha-ha!"  
"Gotcha. Silverado out," said Stafford, "Wow, what a whacko!"  
"Commander Jostec Krak," read Jall, "from Alpha Centauri. Found guilty of 3 counts of lewd and disturbing behavior, spent 5 years in the New Zealand penal colony before being assigned to this junkyard."  
"Oh," said Stafford in a sarcastic, falsely cheerful voice, "we're dealing with a deviant felon! Isn't that just great! Yanick, get in touch with station operations and find out where those delightful people want us parked."  
"Sure thing Captain!" replied Yanick.

Yanick carefully piloted the ship around the edge of the debris field. As she maneuvered around an old Miranda-class wreck there was a sudden jolt and the sound of scraping metal. Stafford cringed in the command chair.  
"What was that?" he asked, hunching his shoulders and looking around.

"A minor brush with somebody else's warp nacelle," reported Fifebee, "No damage, just a small dent in the port engineering hull."  
"I told you not to hit anything!" said Stafford.  
"Sorry!" said Yanick, "Won't happen again...just hit the wrong button..."  
Stafford signed, "Carry on!" He remained hunched in his chair, digging his fingernails into the armrests until Yanick finally reported that they had reached the designated co-ordinates.  
"I have located the Stallion," said Fifebee, "It is approximately 3.4 kilometers into the debris field."  
"Onscreen," ordered Stafford. He smiled, "You know, I just love saying that!"  
"Glad you're having fun," muttered Jall. Fifebee tapped at her console and a ship appeared on the main screen. It was old all right. Refit-Constitution class, with rectangular nacelles and a narrow, flimsy looking neck connecting the saucer and engineering sections. Mostly intact except for several hull breaches in the lower engineering hull. The hull had been seriously abraded by interstellar dust. The navigational deflector was missing as were the phaser banks and the bridge module.  
"Wow," muttered Stafford.  
"Makes the Silverado look pretty good, doesn't she?" commented Noonan.  
"Yeah. I'm sure glad I was the first captain in this program, not the second!" replied Stafford"  
"Well, actually, I didn't want to be on this program at all, but you get what I mean."  
"Captain," interrupted T'Parief, "radiation is preventing me from scanning the Stallion. Krak was correct in stating that transporters will not function."  
"Fine," said Stafford, "Let's go take a look. T'Parief, you're with me. Have Mr. Jeffery and Dr. Wowryk meet us in Shuttlebay 2."  
"Why do you need a doctor?" asked Jall, "I doubt there is anybody there."  
"Because," Stafford explained, "after out last adventure I want to include her in our mission and help her feel like part of the team again!"  
"Well what if I don't feel like part of the team?"  
"Then I promise that next time we need to confront a mob of angry, hostile aliens you can come with us." Stafford walked into the turbolift. Noonan followed.  
"Captain," started Noonan after the doors had closed, "I really don't think you should be going."  
Stafford groaned, "Is there where I get the whole 'First Officer goes on the missions, Captain stays on the ship' speech?"  
"Yes," said Noonan.  
"It's an easy mission! We take a look, then we leave."  
"I don't agree," said Noonan, "we're going onto a derelict vessel in the middle of a radiation field with no hope of transporter rescue."  
"Fine!" said Stafford, "You can have this one, but I'm still the captain. If I decide I wanna go, I'm gonna go."  
"Understood."  
The turbolift deposited them in Shuttlebay 2 at the rear of the engineering hull. Shuttlebay 1, up on the saucer section still smelled like 8 different varieties of feces and would be undergoing decontamination for the next month. The shuttlecraft Avalanche was being prepped for departure. Wowryk and Jeffery were already waiting.  
"OK," said Stafford, "change in plans. Commander Noonan will be taking you over to the Stallion. Check the condition of the ship. Jeffery, figure out what has to be done to get her ready for towing. T'Parief, you're gonna check out the overall status of the ship."  
"And why am I here?" asked Wowryk.  
"Well, y'know," Stafford searched for reason, "because it's better to not need a doctor and have one, then to need one and not have one. Besides, there's radiation in there. Better safe then sorry."  
"All right," Wowryk replied. She was still looking a bit depressed from her little stint as royalty. She couldn't bring herself to so much as look at Jeffery.  
"All right,' said Stafford, "have fun." He turned and walked back into the turbolift.  
T'Parief, Jeffery, Noonan and Wowryk looked at each other.  
"Wow," said Jeffery, "our first mission off the ship."  
"Irrelevant," grumbled T'Parief, "let's go."  
An Andorian stepped out of the Avalanche. Unlike most of his race his white hair was cut extremely short and he had a piercing in one of the two antennae sticking up out of his head.  
"Ahh," he said in a dry, whispery voice, "I'm Ensign Pysternzykz, your pilot for today's flight. To what honorable death may I deliver you today?"  
"No death, please!" said Noonan, "Take us to the U.S.S. Stallion. In one piece please."  
"My mother told me never to fly with Andorians," said Jeffery, "she said it's safer to just jump out the airlock!"  
"How dare you!" snapped Pysternzykz, "I am an excellent pilot! I should rip out your spleen and force it down your throat for suggesting otherwise!"  
"Um, never mind, it's all good," squeaked Jeffery".  
"Better," grunted Pysternzykz, "Come! Death and glory await!"  
Noonan shrugged and followed him into the shuttle.

"Shuttlecraft Avalanche is away," reported Jall.  
"Thank you," said Stafford. He mentally reviewed what just happened.  
"Jall, ready room, now."  
"What did I do!?" Stafford stalked into his ready room with Jall following. Stafford walked around his desk and turned around.  
"OK, what are you up to?"  
"Huh?"  
"You haven't refused any orders, your comments have been only mildly sarcastic, and you just now provided me with useful information without even being asked! That's not like you at all," Stafford said, "Now I want to know what evil little plot you're scheming before it becomes an enormous headache for me!"  
"I'm not scheming anything!" Jall objected, "I'm just doing my job!"  
"I thought you hated your job!"  
"Well, Starfleet IS voluntary you know," said Jall, "has it occurred to you that maybe I like it?"  
"Your file states that you were demoted from First Officer of the Sutherland for 'behavior unbecoming an officer'," said Stafford"  
"Well, I was a bit upset over that," said Jall, "but I'm getting over it." Stafford looked at Jall suspiciously, "I'm going to keep a close eye on you! Dismissed." Jall walked out onto the bridge with an evil smile on his face"  
"I'm really starting to love this job!" he said as he sat back down at his station. Fifebee and Yanick looked at him in amazement.

Stafford sat in his ready room. Jall was driving him crazy! He was up to something, Stafford just knew it! Nobody on board was really close to Jall, he hadn't exactly been making a lot of friends since he had come on board. Hmmm. Yanick was friendly with everybody. Maybe she could figure it out. Stafford was about to call Yanick into his ready room, but realized that could look suspicious. He needed to catch Jall unaware. He'd talk to Yanick later. There was a sudden WHOOSH as the toilet in the ready room bathroom flushed again.  
"Stafford to Rookes," he said, "enough is enough, come and fix this thing...NOW!"

The Avalanche glided carefully into the debris field. True to his word, Pysternzykz was an able enough pilot. So far.  
"All right," said Noonan, "now if we come to heading 54 mark 3 we will find one of the access pathways."  
"Pathways?" asked Wowryk.  
"Areas relatively clear of debris that allow salvage teams easy access to the ships," replied Noonan"  
"Good idea," Wowryk nodded.  
"Boring!" said Pysternzykz, "I know a better way!" He spun the shuttle around and dove into the debris field. Wowryk screamed as he darted between two ancient wrecks.  
"Fasten your harnesses!" he called back, "We fly to a glorious death!"  
"I told you so!" wailed Jeffery as T'Parief dug his claws into his armrests. The shuttle continued to duck and weave through the wreckage. Pysternzykz skimmed the hull of an old Excelsior-class saucer before darting up between the nacelle pylons of an Oberth-class wreck. Noonan gripped his panel, a feral grin on his face.  
"There!" he pointed. A Galaxy-class wreck drifted in front of them. Once nacelle had been so totally gutted it was completely hollow. Despite protests from T'Parief, Wowryk and Jeffery Pysternzykz pulled the shuttle through a barrel roll then aimed right at the front end of the hollow nacelle. The shuttle flew into the nacelle and did another barrel roll before screeching to a halt, spinning around and shooting back out again. Darting past a smashed Intrepid-class ship Pysternzykz skirted the hull then spiraled around the remaining long, thin nacelle of another Excelsior-class ship.  
"I'm gonna be sick!" moaned Jeffery as he watched the stars and assorted debris spiral around outside the viewport.  
"Weakling!" Pysternzykz called back, "For the safety and convenience of our more pathetic passengers you will find vomit bags located beneath the seat on which your cowardly a** is seated! Now, how about some more fun?"  
Pysternzykz suddenly dialed the inertial dampers down to 90%. As a result the shuttle occupants not only had to suffer through the spiraling debris outside, but they were also to feel some of the gut-wrenching moves the shuttle was going though. As the shuttle pulled a tight loop de loop Jeffery and Wowryk grabbed for their vomit bags. Not wanting to be left out, T'Parief grabbed for his as well.  
"Hey!" complained T'Parief, "I have been cheated! There's nothing in here!"  
"Strange human custom!" Pysternzykz called back. T'Parief noticed Wowryk and Jeffery heaving into their bags.  
"Oh," he said, "gross!"

Stafford left the bridge at the end of his duty shift leaving Lieutenant Kintaine in command. He rode the turbolift down to deck 9 and walked into Unbalanced Equations. As usual, Steven was behind his bar mixing up anything from a chocolate milkshake to his infamous Klingon Martini. Various crewmembers were relaxing in the lounge. The lounge itself was a very mixed atmosphere. Dark wood trim framed cream coloured walls and the ceiling supports had been given the look of heavy wooden rafters. Towards the bar and the walls were a number of tables and chairs. Large observation windows looked out between the ship's warp nacelles. A number of large, comfortable armchairs sat facing the windows. Stafford grabbed a stool at the bar.  
"Hey Steven," he said as he sat down.  
"Captain," Steven nodded.  
"So what's new?"  
"Commander Noonan has requested that I start holding Cartoon Night on Tuesdays," replied Steven, "I was pretty sure you'd be OK with that so I gave him the OK."  
"Cartoon night?" asked Stafford, "That was my idea! Well, sort of. Whatever."  
"And Crewman Shwaluk wants to hold a 'naked limbo' night on Friday."  
"Absolutly not!" said Stafford.  
"Oh come on," said Steven, "it wouldn't be that bad. There are plenty of female crewmembers I'd like to see participate!" Stafford mulled that over for a minute, then shook his head.  
"Nope," he said, "ideas of modesty may have changed in the past few centuries but I draw the line at rampant nudity on my ship!"  
"You're the captain," said Steven.  
"So how about Jall?" Stafford asked, "Have you noticed anything strange about him lately?"  
"No," replied Steven, "why would I?"  
"You're the bartender! Bartenders are supposed to know everybody and their problems!"  
"Um, I haven't really been onboard long enough for that," said Steven, "but so far Jall strikes me as being an OK guy."  
"Exactly!" said Stafford, "That's not him! He's planning something, or he's been possessed or something! He's been too well-behaved lately!"  
"Um, right," said Steven, "so I take it you'll be drinking decaff today?"  
"No, give me a Jolt Cola. I'm going to get to the bottom of this!"  
Stafford took his drink over to his favorite chair by the window. As he started sipping he again felt the surge of power and energy that came only from a good caffeine rush. Watching the reflections in the window he finally saw Ensign Yanick walk in. He gave her a wave. After grabbing a strawberry milkshake she headed in his direction. Before Stafford even had a chance to open his mouth she dropped down into a chair and started talking.  
"What the heck was with Jall today?" she asked, "He was so...not evil!"  
"Oh, really?" said Stafford, "You're right! I had hardly noticed."  
"What do you mean? You gave him heck for it in your ready room!"  
"Um..." Stafford's brain hunted for an excuse.  
"Anyway, he was asking me about my day, and my family and everything! It was so weird!" Yanick cut in.  
"So you have no idea what he's up to?" Stafford asked.  
"Not a clue," she said.  
"Wanna find out?"  
"Yeah!"  
"Great," Stafford leaned in, "now since you're the attractive female co-worker, I think you should try talking to him."  
"Um, I don't think that's going to work on him," said Yanick with a worried look.  
"Why not?"  
"Oh, never mind!" she smiled, "I'll see what I can find."  
"Good. What do you know about him so far?"  
"Well," Yanick sipped her milkshake, "he's half human and half Trill. His parents were both in Starfleet. They were stationed on Earth for most of Jall's childhood, he's never even been to Trill. He used to serve on the Sutherland before coming here."  
"Yes, yes," said Stafford as he leaned back, "All that was in his file. I want to know what's missing. I need to figure him out and stop whatever annoying plan he's got."  
"Aren't you going a bit overboard on this?" asked Yanick, "Maybe he's just in a good mood."  
"His idea of a good mood is shooting somebody!" said Stafford, "He's planning something evil!"  
"Well, I don't know much else about him, "said Yanick, "he mentioned that his last relationship ended badly, but that's it!" Stafford sighed.  
"Well, that's not going to help me much. See what you can find. Be discreet."  
"Got it!" Stafford got up and walked out of the lounge. He bumped into Jall on his way to the turbolift..  
"Hey Captain," called Jall cheerfully, "how's it going?"  
"Bite me!" Stafford called back over his shoulder.

"We have arrived!" announced Pysternzykz after what felt like forever. T'Parief pried his claws out of the armrests. He looked over to see Wowryk and Jeffery gripping each other in terror. Wowryk blushed and released Jeffery. They looked out the forward viewport. The aged ship was right in front of them"  
"So how do we get in?" asked Wowryk.  
"We'll align our dorsal docking port with the starboard saucer airlock," answered Noonan, "Radiation levels are still high enough to interfere with the transporter." He rubbed a hand against his temple. Wowryk pulled out her tricorder.  
"Radiation levels are higher than expected," she reported. She pulled out a hypospray and began injecting everybody; "This will protect you for about 24 hours." Noonan shook his head, as though trying to clear it.  
"Are you feeling OK?" Wowryk asked, concerned. She started to bring up her medical tricorder. Noonan pushed the device away.  
"I'll be fine," He starting scanning the Stallion. Something on his panel caught his eye.  
"Oh my!" he said.  
"What?" asked T'Parief.  
"I'm picking up life signs!"  
"A salvage crew?"  
"I doubt it. There are no other shuttles or functional ships nearby. I'm also picking up low-level power readings. Life support is functioning!"  
"Trespassers!" snarled the security chief.  
"Right, like somebody is going to actually WANT to sneak onto an abandoned wreck," quipped Jeffery"  
"Let's go find out, shall we?" said Noonan, "Pysternzykz, continue with docking."

The airlock door creaked open. Noonan, T'Parief, Wowryk, Jeffery and Pysternzykz crept into the dark corridors. Very few emergency lights were still functioning. Jeffery located a computer panel and started tapping.  
"The entire engineering section looks dead, except for one jefferies tube leading to Main Engineering. There is minimal power on decks 4 to 8."  
"Jeffery, you and Pysternzykz head down to Engineering and see if she can be towed," ordered Noonan, "T'Parief, check the general condition of the ship. Doctor, you and I will try to track down the life signs." The group split up, heading their separate ways.

Jeffery and Pysternzykz crawled down the dark jefferies tube. They were moving down the neck of the ship towards Engineering.  
"Why do I have to check the engines with you!" muttered Pysternzykz, "What chance is there for an honorable death? I should be tracking and obliterating the trespassers!"  
"What is it with the Andorian love of death and destruction?" asked Jeffery.  
"What is it with the human love of mushy romance novels and the bureaucracy?" Pysternzykz shot back.  
"Well, look on the bright side. Maybe a power surge will vaporize you!"  
"That would not be an honorable death," complained Pysternzykz, "but it is a start." T'Parief walked through the dark corridors of the Stallion. He came across a door labeled 'Arboretum'. As the door opened he was blinding by the light. As his eyes adjusted he saw plants growing everywhere. A large light overhead provided illumination and hoses ran everywhere in a crude irrigation system. There was a sudden rustle to his left. T'Parief whipped out his phaser.  
"Show yourselves!" he snarled. There was another rustle behind him. He spun around and fired, hitting absolutely nothing. There was a sudden sharp pain at the back of his head and he collapsed to the deck. Before he lost consciousness he heard a voice: "Hey momma, I got me a 'gator!"

T'Parief was awakened by a splash of cold...something. Smelled a bit like garlic. He found himself tied to a spit and looking up at the ceiling. Twisting his head around he could see a particularly ugly human preparing to start a fire beneath him. Her skin was horribly blotched and most of her hair had fallen out. One eye was a milky white. She was humming to herself as she stacked sticks and twigs under T'Parief.  
"Who are you?" he demanded, "Release me at once!"  
"Well I'd be a danged snook!" she exclaimed. She was missing several teeth.  
"A talking gator! What do ya know?"  
"I am not a 'gator'! I am Lieutenant Commander T'Parief of the Federation Starship Silverado, and you are trespassing on Starfleet property!"  
"I don't know what the heck yous is talking abouts," she said, "I just know I'm supposed to cook you up for Sunday supper!"  
"It's Wednesday you dumb blarch!" snapped T'Parief.  
"Maybe for the gators!" she cackled and walked towards the exit, "I'll be right on back with the fire starters! Dontchu go away!"  
"This is SOO not good," muttered T'Parief. He strained at the ropes to no effect. He tried to bring his teeth down to bite through them, but found himself unable to reach.  
"VERY not good."

Noonan and Wowryk walked the curving corridor circling the deck. Noonan had his tricorder out and was trying to track the life signs through the interference. He was also feeling terrible, a very unusual experience for him. Wowryk wasn't saying much, just following along.  
"I-I think we need to go down a deck," said Noonan.  
"Whatever you say. There should be a jefferies tube coming up soon," replied Wowryk. They continued walking. Wowryk marveled at the condition of the ship. When she had first boarded Silverado even she could tell that the ship had been badly neglected during its short time as a garbage scow. Smashed panels, shredded carpet, etc. The Stallion on the other hand just looked old. Panels were intact, just scratched and pitted. The air was a bit odd too, and there was a slight smell of... foliage? Yeah. It smelled like a garden. How odd. She was turning to comment on the smell to Noonan when she noticed his appearance. He looked tired, drained. There was a slight glisten of moisture on his face. Sweat? She couldn't tell in the dim lighting.  
"Commander," she asked, "are you sure you're OK? You look terrible!"  
"I'm fine," Noonan said, "I'm sure the 'grace of God' will pull me through!"  
"Are you mocking me, Commander?" Wowryk asked, surprised. Noonan had always been very polite"  
"Of course not. I actually do believe in God, and the devil. I just don't agree with the teachings of the church."  
"That's blasphemous!" said Wowryk, "But much less blasphemous that what most of the crew thinks."  
"People these days have been taught to base everything they believe in on technology and science," said Noonan, "most of them don't understand that science doesn't explain everything." They found the jefferies tube and climbed down the deck below. It was much like the deck above, although the smell had diminished.  
"I'm picking up 1 life sign," said Noonan as he consulted his tricorder.  
"It looks like it's in the Impulse Control room. This way."

Jeffery and Pysternzykz had finally reached Main Engineering. The Stallion's warp core was a segmented tube stretching through several decks of the ship. Energy swirled faintly.  
"Ah don't believe it," said Jeffery breathlessly, "the warp core is still online!"  
"Barely!" rasped Pysernzykz, "You couldn't even power a phaser bank with this pile of zzxyytssf!"  
"No, but this explains why there is some life support running. At these power levels it could probably run for another 70 years." Jeffery shined his beacon around.  
"What the hell?" Engineering had been...redecorated. To put it mildly. Bed sheets had been hung along the walls. Several chairs had been arranged facing the warp core. A shrine of sorts had been built in front of the core, made from pieces of furniture. Somebody had dragged an old style food synthesizer into Main Engineering and plugged it right into the EPS energy taps.  
"Somebody has been here, for a while," said Jeffery.  
"Somebody I'd defiantly like to meet!" replied Pysternzykz.  
"Why?" The Andorian gestured him over. Jeffery gave a gasp of surprise. Pinned to the wall was a human skeleton draped in the remains of an environmental suit.. A large knife was lying on the floor, along with a variety of small animal skulls.  
"Jeffery to Noonan!" Jeffery called as he tapped his comm-badge. There was a slight crackle of static"  
"Must be the radiation. Let's get our work done and get out of here!" Tapping away at the engineering terminal Jeffery was able to gather the information he needed very quickly. An active power source would made things much easier, since they could use the structural integrity and inertial dampening fields on the Stallion rather than bringing over temporary generators from the Silverado. The hull breaches weren't good, but since the ship was going to be towed they wouldn't be a major problem. Jeffery closed his tricorder and gestured for Pysternzykz to follow him back into the jefferies tube. Noonan and Wowryk came around the corner and into the corridor leading to the Impulse Control room. Noonan could see up ahead that the doors were wide open. He drew his phaser and walked carefully in, motioning at Wowryk to stay behind him.  
"Hello!" he called, "I am Commander Noonan of the U.S.S. Silverado. We know you are here. Please identify yourselves!" There was no reply.  
"Maybe they're shy," muttered Wowryk. There was a click from behind them. Moving with great speed Noonan knocked Wowryk to the deck, spun around and dodged to his right, just as the intruder let loose with his dual-barrel shotgun. Wowryk screamed as the pellets bounced around the room. Noonan grabbed the gun and bent the barrel in half. He didn't even wince, although the barrel was very hot to the touch.  
"You son of a bitch!" complained the intruder, "That was my best shootin' gun!" He was an unpleasantly fat, balding man wearing overalls and a straw hat. His skin was cracked and reddened and a very unpleasant odor was emanating from him.  
"Identify yourself!" snapped Noonan.  
"Say what?"  
"Who are you?"  
"Oh!" the man scratched his ample behind, "My name's Big Jim."  
"And what are you doing here?"  
"This here is my home. I live here. What are you people doing trespassing on my property?"  
"Your property?"  
"Yeah!" Big Jim drew himself up to his full height, as though attempting to intimidate Noonan"  
"I was born and raised in this here country, and you are trespassing!" Noonan was not intimidated or impressed.  
"You are not in a country. You are on an abandoned starship, floating in the middle of a debris field!"  
"Whatchu talkin' about, boy?" asked Big Jim angrily. Noonan sat down at one of the control stations and starting tapping. Finally, he was able to pull up a schematic of the Stallion.  
"This is the U.S.S. Stallion. We are here," Noonan pointed at the rear of the saucer, "It is a ship. We plan to tow it back to Earth and attempt to rehabilitate you so that you may live a productive life." Big Jim frowned.  
"An what is just so wrong with me, Mr. Fancy-Pants?"  
"Mr. Jim, I'm sure you're very happy, but you must understand that there are much better places to live than this!"  
"Yes!" piped in Dr. Wowry, "Where there is plenty of food, water and light. And none of the radiation that is making your hair fall out." Big Jim mulled this over for a bit.  
"I reckon that you just want to steal my property! But I'm a fair man, and so I'll give you the chance to prove yerselves! But first, I'm a gonna introduce ya to my family." He turned and ambled out of the room. When no one else moved he turned back and yelled, "Well come on!" Noonan pulled himself out of his chair, stumbling as he did so. Wowryk caught him.  
"You are NOT well sir!" she said. She could see that Noonan's skin had reddened and was starting to blister like a bad sunburn, "The radiation shouldn't be affecting you like this!"  
"I have very sensitive skin," replied Noonan, "It will be OK. Now hurry up, we've got to catch up with him."  
"You and I have to have an appointment when we get back!" Wowryk frowned again and hurried ahead. Noonan pulled a self-heating thermos out of his pack. He hit a button, causing the status light to turn green. Checking that Wowryk was out of sight he took a long drink. As he capped the thermos and followed the others, the blisters on his arms faded and his skin returned to its usual pale colour.

Stafford had gone down to the Silverado's gym with the hopes of burning off some steam. Although several of the ship's recreational facilities (such as the Twister arena) had been gutted to make room for the still non-functional holodecks the gym had been renovated with the rest of the ship. Nobody had gotten around to replacing the aged equipment though. He changed into his workout cloths and headed to the workout room. After trying for several minutes to free the rusted machines he admitted defeat and moved on to the punching bag. Punching and kicking away Stafford was completely oblivious to the creaking of the rusted chain that supported the large punching bag. He delivered a hard kick, pushing the bag back. As it swung back towards him the chain let go. The bag flew loose, slamming into Stafford and knocking him to the ground.  
"Ow," he muttered as he pushed the bag off of him.  
"Nice form, Captain," came Jall's voice from across the room. Stafford looked over. Ignoring the rusted out machines Jall had grabbed some free weights and was in the process of working out.  
"Shut up!" snapped Stafford.  
"Geez," said Jall, "what's gotten you so wound up?"  
"Nothing! I'm not wound up!"  
"Could have fooled me!"  
Stafford moved to the second punching bag and resumed blowing off steam. He started imagining Jall's face in place of the faded 'Starfleet Sports Equipment' logo. Finally growing tired he showered and left the gym. Once he was down the corridor he tapped his comm-badge.  
"Stafford to Yanick, he's in the gym. Now would be a good time."

Feeling slightly ridiculous, Yanick quickly changed into a pink leotard and hurried down to the gym. Jall had finished with his weights and was running laps around the gymnasium. Yanick fell into step beside him  
"So," she panted, "how ya doin'?"  
"Fine," said Jall, "That is such a cute outfit! It really shows off your figure." Yanick blushed, "Stop it!" she giggled.

An hour later, a panting and sweating Ensign Yanick showed up at Stafford's door. Stafford wrinkled his nose as she stepped in.  
"No time for a shower?" he asked"  
"Shower...woman's locker...not working," she gasped.  
"Oh, whatever. So did you learn anything useful?"  
"Orange...is the new...fashionable...workout colour...for women..."  
"Um, right. Anything else?" Stafford walked over to replicator"  
"Water please."  
"Here you are, kiddo," replied the replicator"  
"Thanks," muttered Stafford.  
"I think...he's...just lonely..."said Yanick. Stafford frowned as he handed Yanick the water. She drank heavily"  
"Lonely?"  
"He hasn't made very many friends onboard yet," Yanick said, leaning against the wall.  
"Because he's a jackass!"  
"Well, he's not that bad," said Yanick.  
"Trish," sighed Stafford, "not everybody is as forgiving as you are."  
"Well, then maybe you should be!"  
"Or maybe he should be a little less of a jerk! Y'know, maybe if he were nice once in awhile..." Yanick looked at him"  
"Oh," Stafford said quietly.  
"I though I was supposed to be the blond one here!" Yanick said with a giggle.  
"Now I feel bad," said Stafford.  
"And I smell bad," replied Yanick, "I'm going to have a shower. You should go talk to Jall!"  
"Do I have to?" Stafford whined.  
"After the way you treated him? You better!"  
"Crap."

Noonan and Wowryk followed Big Jim back up the jefferies tube to the deck above. Wowryk had to fight hard not to puke when she looked up the ladder and saw Jim's ample backside looking back at her. They walked down the dim corridor. Noonan's ears perked up as he heard a deep roaring sound. It sounded almost like T'Parief, except it seemed to be fading in and out.  
"Um, Big Jim, what is that?" asked Noonan.  
"What is what?"  
"That yelling."  
"I don't hear nothing." Right. Noonan mentally kicked himself. Human ears wouldn't be able to detect it yet. A little further.."  
"Hear it now?"  
"Oh yeah," said Jim with a smile, "I reckon it's that 'gator that little Jimmy caught us for supper."  
"'Gator?" asked Wowrk.  
"T'Parief!"  
"Oh dear."

Noonan, Wowryk and Jim burst into the arboretum. T'Parief was still hanging from the spit, yelling his brains out. Fortunately the fire was still pretty small, but a fat lady with mottled skin, a white eye and a few wisps of hair was already cranking the spit. The spinning caused the strange fading effect Noonan had noticed as T'Parief was spun to face the wall, then the door, and then the wall again.  
"LET ME GO! Ow! Hot! Hot! RELEASE ME AT ONCE! I AM A Starfleet officer, not DINNER!"  
"Good God!" exclaimed Noonan. Wowryk glared at him, then quickly crossed herself.  
"Get him out of there!" she yelled.  
"Um, I have a slight problem with fire," said Noonan.  
"Fine! I'll do it myself!" Wowryk stormed over to the spit and starting stomping out the fire. T'Parief gasped in relief.  
"Doctor, I've never been so happy to see you! Please tell me you brought burn cream!" Noonan walked over and together the two of them untied T'Parief. He snarled at the woman, causing her to give a little jump back.  
"This 'gator a friend of yours?" asked Big Jim"  
"Yes," replied Noonan, "he is one of my officers. And he is not a 'gator'. He is, well, that's a long story."  
"Not a 'gator?" cried the woman, "Well he sure looks like one to me! But I reckon that if he's a friend of yers, we better not eat him. Yet."  
"This here," said Big Jim, "is my lovely wife Bertha."  
"Charmed," said Wowryk flatly.  
"Our youngens, Little Jim, Jimmy, and Daisy-May are probably hiding in that there tree. Come out here, you little varmints!" Three children emerged from the foliage. The oldest was perhaps 19 with hideously blistered skin, no hair and an extra nose growing out of his forehead. The other two were twins. Their skin was just as blistered, but they still had thinning hair.  
"My God," exclaimed Wowryk. She blushed, crossed herself and pulled out her tricorder, "long term exposure to radiation. Non-fatal, barely! Can cause blistering, baldness, blindness, mutations, erectile dysfunction, reduced life-span-"  
"Yes, thank you for that," Noonan cut her off, "can we get this test over with so we can get you to safety and complete our mission?"  
"If ye say so!" said Big Jim.  
"What test?" rumbled T'Parief"  
"We need to prove to them that we're not here to steal their 'property'."  
"And how do we do that? Our mission is to reclaim this ship."  
"Yer gonna talk ter the Great Connie Puder! She will decide your fate!"  
"She? What is it with us and power hungry females?" asked T'Parief. Wowryk looked at the floor.  
"Sorry," he muttered.  
"Where is this shrine?" asked Noonan.  
"Deep within the ground, from where the breath of life comes and only the brave dare to go!" declared Big Jim.  
"Oh," Noonan thought for a moment"  
"engineering."  
"To the caves!" croaked Bertha.

Pysternzykz and Jeffery were working their way up the jefferies tube from the engineering section. Jeffery was just reaching for the hatch when it opened of it's own accord and a blistered, fat face looked down.  
"AHHHH!" screamed Jeffery. He scrambled back down the ladder, stepping on Pysternzykz head and climbing over the Andorian as he tried to escape.  
"Watch it, coward!" snapped the Pysternzykz. He looked up into the hideous face.  
"We got us some funny critters in here," said Big Jim. Noonan peered down the shaft.  
"Oh, those are more of my people." Big Jim looked strangely at Noonan.  
"You work with some funny looking things!"  
"Well Jim, the Federation and Starfleet include numerous races and cultures, most of which have appearances different from that of humans..." Noonan took in the blank look on Jim's face, "...and you have absolutely no idea what I am talking about. Never mind. Let's go."  
"Where are we going?" asked Jeffery from down the shaft. Big Jim put his hand over his heart"  
"The Shine of the Great Connie Puder."  
"Huh?"  
"Main Engineering," explained Noonan.  
"But we just climbed all the way up from there!"  
"Weakling human!" snapped Pysternzykz, "I am ready to serve, Commander."  
"Let's go." The bizarre procession of humans, non-humans, humans with severe radiation sickness and Commander Noonan (still feeling terrible) climbed down the jefferies tube through the neck of the ship towards the 'Shrine of the Great Connie Puder'. Jeffery and Noonan were at the front of the line, talking quietly.  
"It sure looks like somebody has been doing something down there," Jeffery was saying.  
"Main Engineering is obviously this shrine," replied Noonan.  
"Yeah, but shrine to what?" asked Jeffery.  
"You said there was a small altar," said Noonan.  
"Yeah," Jeffery replied, "Dr. Wowryk keeps an alter in her office and her bedroom, so Ah knew what it was."  
"Why were you in her bedroom?"  
"Ah wasn't! Not really, anyway. Dr. Wowryk's office. Queen Wowryk's bedroom."  
"Right. Confusing. Anyway, where was the altar?"  
"Right in front of the warp core," said Jeffery.  
"Oh. I doubt Dr. Wowryk would approve of that."

Stafford stood outside of Lieutenant Jall's quarters, mentally preparing himself. Aside from really not wanting to apologize to Jall, Stafford was developing a serious fear of entering another officer's quarters. So far he had walked in on one nude officer (who had been painted pink) and one officer in a dream-induced coma. Collecting his wits, Stafford rang the chime.  
"Come in!" came Jall's voice. Stafford walked in the door, winced and shielded his eyes. Jall was wearing a blue spandex workout suit and dancing to bizarre, fast-paced music as he tapped away at the replicator panel.  
"Oh God," muttered Stafford., "Computer, music off!" He grabbed a housecoat off a nearby chair and tossed it at Jall.  
"Look San, I know we haven't gotten along very well since we started this mission. Mostly because of you." Jall pulled a bowl of soup out of the replicator, set it on the table, sat down and crossed his arms"  
"But lately because of me," continued Stafford, "it was wrong of me to suspect you of being up to something just because you were being nice for once. I apologize for not taking you at face value and for treating you badly." Jall flashed Stafford a bright smile.  
"Captain, you just made my day! Jall to Shwaluk. He cracked after 5 hours and 36 minutes! Pay up losers! I win!"  
"What the hell?" asked Stafford.  
"We had a little betting pool going on," said Jall smugly, "How long before I could make you break down an apologized to me. I was down for between 5 and a half and 6 hours. I just won 4 extra vacation days! Ha-ha-ha!" Stafford's face reddened and a vein on his forehead started to throb.  
"Why you little son of a bitch! This was your plan from the beginning! You WERE up to something!"  
"Yes," said Jall, "yes I was. And it worked perfectly!" Stafford reached across the table, grabbed Jall by the ears and slammed his face into the steaming soup.  
"Enjoy your vacation, you prick!"

Noonan, Jim and company had arrived at Main Engineering, AKA the Shrine of the Great Connie Puder. Bertha and the kids knelt in front of the dimly glowing warp core, muttered a few prayers then took their seats. Wowryk was aghast.  
"Worship of a warp core? Placing an inanimate piece of technology above Our Lord? THIS CANNOT STAND-"  
"Quiet," Noonan said as he slapped a hand over her mouth, "Finish test first, re-educate later." Jeffery slumped against a side panel, exhausted from his multiple excursions through the tubes. Big Jim walked up to the altar in front of the core, dropped to his knees and spread his arms.  
"Oh Great Connie Puder," he called out, "we are your humble servants. We pay our greatest homage to you, unworthy as we are. We ask ye for our daily bread, and to judge these here trespassers in thy great name!"  
"Command unclear, please repeat," came the static filled voice of a Starfleet computer system"  
"Command unclear, please repeat" repeated Bertha and the kids reverently.  
"Ye gotta be kidding me," moaned Jeffery, "the ship's computer?" Noonan chuckled.  
"I asked for interesting," he said quietly, "I sure got it!" Big Jim was continuing his 'prayer'. From the sounds of it, this same routine had been played out several times before.  
"I repeat my humble request, oh Great Connie Puder," Big Jim called out, "please provide us with sustenance, that we may continue to serve you."  
"There are a variety of foodstuffs available at this synthesizer. Please specify," replied the voice of the computer.  
"Please specify," murmured Bertha and the kids.  
"I ask ye humbly for a pot of rabbit stew, in thy great name."  
"In thy great name," murmured Bertha and the kids.  
"Insufficient power levels. Please make another selection,"  
"Please make another selection," murmured Bertha and the kids.  
"Might we have a loaf of bread?"  
"Order complete" The synthesizer door opened and Jim pulled out a loaf of bread.  
"We thank ye, mighty Connie Puder," he said reverently.  
"We thank ye," repeated Bertha and the kids. Big Jim turned to Noonan"  
"The Great Connie Puder is the provider of all things. She gives us the light, the water, our food. But she has found us less than worthy for many seasons. We've had to survive from what we can grow, with only the occasional crust of bread from her! If ye can prove worthy of her, we'll go with ye, and ye can take this 'ship' where ye wish."  
"Understood," said Noonan, "might we have some privacy to determine our plan of action?" Big Jim nodded, gathered his family and retreated to the jefferies tube access hatch.  
"Ah don't believe this," said Jeffery, "'Connie Puder!" Give me a break!"  
"Hey," said Wowryk, "who knows how long these poor souls have been stuck here! They don't have the education to understand what's going on!"  
"Yes ma'am," said Jeffery quietly.  
"So all we must do," rumbled T'Parief," is get a food synthesizer running?"  
"Apparently," said Noonan, leaning against a support strut, "Jeffery, what do you think?"  
"Easy!" he said, "Ye just have to know what to do!"  
"Excellent. Try to be grandiose about it. The more we impress them, the easier it will be to get them out of here!"

After calling Big Jim and his family back in, Noonan, T'Parief and Pysternzykz were kneeling in front of the warp core. Jeffery finished making adjustments on the only functional engineering control panel then took the center position in front of the altar. Wowryk sat against the far wall, having flatly refused to participate.  
"Computer," started Jeffery. Noonan cleared his throat loudly.  
"Oh," said Jeffery, "Ahem. Oh Great Connie Puder, we come humbly into your presence in the hopes of proving worthy of your gifts."  
"Command unclear, please repeat," stated the computer.  
"Command unclear, please repeat," murmed the others. Noonan struggled against his nausea and the urge to laugh at the situation.  
"We beg thee to increase antimatter flow rate by 23 % and transfer plasma flow to EPS taps 2,3 and 6." Big Jim and his family looked at each other in confusion as the Starfleet officers murmered, "By 23%, 2,3 and 6."  
"Procedure complete," replied the computer.  
"Procedure complete."  
"We humbly implore thee to adjust the dilithium articulation frame angle by 2.132 degrees on the X axis," called out Jeffery.  
"2.132 on the X axis," murmured the other officers.  
"Procedure complete," replied the computer.  
"Procedure complete."  
"Oh Great Connie Puder," yelled out Jeffery, "I COMMAND YOU! Increase warp core power levels by 14 percent!"  
"14 percent" cried out Pysternzykz.  
"LET THERE BE LIGHT!" screamed Jeffery as he threw his arms back. Lighting came up to full power in as the energy in the warp core swirled faster, and brightened. Bertha screamed in fear as Jeffery cackled maniacally. Wowryk rolled her eyes as Noonan walked over to the food synthesizer.  
"Computer, T-Bone steak, medium rare with garden baked potatoes and a healthy helping of vegetables," He ordered. He withdrew the steaming plate and handed it to Big Jim. The large man was still trembling. Jeffery, arms still outstretched looked around, as though remembering that there were other people in the room. He dropped his arms, hunched his shoulders and blushed.  
"Sorry, Ah was really getting into the role," he said sheepishly.  
"Can we go home now?" asked T'Parief.

Noonan, T'Parief, Wowryk, Pysternzykz and the refugees from the Stallion were all crammed into the shuttle. Despite having the air re-circulators cranked, the smell of sickness and body odor saturated the shuttle. Noonan, still feeling unwell, was sitting in the rear. Big Jim was looking out the window at the Stallion.  
"Wow," he said, "it ain't nothin' like I imagined,"  
"Pysternzykz," called Noonan, "take us back to the Silverado. Nice and easy this time please."  
"Fine," muttered Pysternzykz. He quickly located one of the access paths and guided the shuttle towards the edge of the debris field. Wowryk was sitting next to Jeffery.  
"That was an interesting performance," she finally said. Jeffery looked at his feet, "Ah used to be in Drama school," he said, "but Ah was always too shy to get up on the stage,"  
"You did pretty well," said Wowryk.  
"Yeah. Ah've been feeling very different since...y'know."  
"Since I enslaved you and made you my unwilling consort?" Wowryk said quietly.  
"Who said Ah was unwilling?" said Jeffery quietly. He blushed again and looked at the floor. Wowryk felt...strange. Most men had earned only disdain from her. They were horny, messy, uncouth, loud, boisterous slobs! But Jeffery was a quiet, shy, highly trained, intelligent engineer. Yes, it was Queen Wowryk who had chosen him as a suitor. But maybe that was her subconscious trying to tell her something. She still felt...attracted to him. She gave Jeffery a small smile.

Captain's Log, Stardate 56197.4  
"Our away team has returned from the wreck of the Stallion along with some guests. Dr. Wowryk took the whole group immediately to Sickbay and informs me that while they have suffered serious long-term radiation exposure she can treat the majority of their maladies. None of them are going to be doing any more breeding anytime soon, but I think we can all live with that."  
"True to his word, Commander Krak and his team cleared a path through the debris and towed the Stallion out of the debris field. Once it was clear of the radiation Lieutenant Commander Jeffery was able to send his crew over to prepare the ship for towing. They've brought back some interesting information."

"So they were marooned there by pirates?" asked Stafford.  
"No," replied Lieutenat Fifebee," their ancestors were. Apparently a group of pirates were sneaking into the depot and 'skillfully acquiring' parts and materials from the wrecked ships. According to the logs I found there was some kind of argument. The losers of that argument were left on the Stallion to rot, over 60 years ago. Most of them died out due to the radiation, but Big Jim and Bertha were born to the survivors and have been living there ever since."  
"Horrible way to grow up," muttered Stafford.  
"Certainly," replied Fifebee, "In any event, they will be handed over to Starfleet Medical and rehabilitated once we return the Stallion to Earth."  
"How are they adjusting?"  
"You mean aside from praying to the replicators and urinating in the arboretum?"  
"Nevermind," said Stafford, rubbing his forehead, "thank you Lieutenant, dismissed." Fifebee exited, and Jeffery walked in.  
"We're all set for towing," he said as he dropped down on Stafford's couch, "tractor beams all set, warp field adjustments complete."  
"Great," said Stafford dryly, "and you had to come all the way up here to tell me this why?"  
"Um, I kinda had something else to ask you about," said Jeffery.  
"Oh, OK. Shoot," said Stafford.  
"What do ye think of Dr. Wowryk?"  
"Well, she's kinda frigid," replied Stafford, "Doesn't like men very much. She's a pretty good doctor, if you don't piss her off anyway. I wouldn't know, I always seem to be on her bad side. Why?"  
"Well, Ah think Ah kinda...think Ah like her,"  
"Are you crazy?" asked Stafford, shocked, "That woman will eat you alive and spit out the bones!"  
"Oh," said Jeffery. Stafford held his breath, "But what am I saying? Maybe you're seeing a different side of her than I am. Just keep in mind that she's a bit...odd, and that some part of her enslaved this entire ship."  
"Uh, right," said Jeffery, "well, I better get back to Engineering."  
"Talk to you later," said Stafford. Jeffery walked out. Yanick walked in.  
Geez, thought Stafford, Don't these people have anything better to do?  
"So, did you apologize to Jall?" Yanick asked as sat down.  
"Oh, I apologized all right," said Stafford, "and then I kicked his scheming little ass!"  
"How come?"  
"Because his good behavior was all a ploy!" said Stafford angrily, "He had a bet going on to see how long it would take me to apologize!"  
"Oh," Yanick frowned, "that's not very nice!"  
"No, it sure as hell isn't!"  
"Who won?"  
"He did," Stafford grinned, "but in the end, I'm going to be the winner. Dismissed."  
Alone at last, Stafford started filling out his personnel transfer form.

The next morning, Stafford, Noonan, Yanick, Fifebee and Jeffery were all manning the bridge stations. On the main viewscreen was a rear view looking out between the Silverado's nacelles. The much smaller Stallion floated in space. Jeffery and his repair teams had powered up some of the decommissioned ship's systems for the trip back to Earth. A single running light blinked forlornly.  
"Engage tractor beam," ordered Stafford.  
"Engaged," replied Jeffery. On the screen a pale blue beam shot out from the Silverado to gently grip the Stallion.  
"Ensign Yanick, set course for Earth, warp 4,"  
"You bet! Course set and ready to go!" reported Yanick.  
"Lieutenant Kintaine," Stafford addressed the officer manning Ops, "advise Commander Krak that we are departing."  
"Yes sir,"  
"Take care of my baby," came the sad, dry voice.  
"Whatever, sicko," muttered Stafford. The two ships leapt into warp.

Stafford was sitting back in Unbalanced Equations, once again enjoying the view out the large windows and sipping a Klingon Martini. He could see the stars streaking by, and the Stallion hanging behind like a dog on a leash. The nacelle grills were glowing a brilliant bright blue from the warp plasma. Jeffery sat down next to Stafford.  
"Ah heard about that little joke Jall pulled on ye," he said, "not cool. Do ye want me to dig up some horrid job for him?' "Oh, I've already managed that," said Stafford with a smile, "but thanks for offering."  
"Sweet!" said Jeffery, "what did ye do?" Stafford pointed out the window. A single space suited figure was standing on the upper engineering hull, held in place with magnetic boots. The figure was working to strip off the old paint a section at a time and smoothening the hull in preparation for the new coat"  
"How long as he been out there?" asked Jeffery.  
"Oh, about 10 hours now," said Stafford as he waved out the window at the Jall. Jall raised one glove and extended his middle figure.  
"Stafford to Jall," Stafford said as he tapped his comm-badge, "That's good for another hour. Have fun!" Fifebee and Yanick came over with a tray full of drinks.  
"Looks like somebody is having a good time!" said Yanick"  
"Very much so," replied Stafford., "Ladies, please, grab a seat, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the view."

End

Next on Silverado: After 5 stories worth of puttering around, Stafford and his crew are finally ready to head off into deep space! They just have to tie up some loose ends first.


	6. 6 - Last-Minute Packing

Star Traks: Silverado 1.6

"Last-Minute Packing"

Captain Christopher Stafford stood on the bridge of the U.S. . On the main screen was the old box dock in which his ship had taken on new life. Soon, another ship would occupy that berth. Silverado had returned to Earth to deliver the U.S. , a Constitution-class starship that was to be recycled by 'Operation Salvage', much like the Silverado herself had been. The hygienically challenged former inhabitants of the Stallion had already been transported down to Starfleet Medical.  
"All right Ensign," Stafford said to Ensign Yanick, "Take us through nice and easy."  
"Gotcha!' replied Yanick with a grin. She slowly guided the ship into the box dock. On screen, the girders and supports passed by as Silverado entered the dock.  
Stafford stopped, looked at the screen and cocked his head. It looked the ship was heading a bit too far to the right. Naw, he was just being paranoid.  
"We're inside the dock," reported Lieutenant Jall.  
"Good, keep going," replied Stafford. He looked back at the screen. Now things were DEFINATLY too far to the right, "Trish!" he said, panicked.  
Yanick looked up from where she had been diligently focusing on her console, chewing on a strand of hair, "Oh sh**!" She tapped at the console, overcompensated and sent the ship towards the opposite wall. Missing the girders by mere meters, she straightened the ship out and glided out the other end of the dock.  
"All stop," ordered Stafford as he collapsed, sweating, into his command chair.  
Hanging behind the Silverado, locked in a tractor beam, was the Stallion, now perfectly centered in the box dock.  
"Box dock control reports that the Stallion is secure, we can release our tractor beam," reported Jall.  
"Acknowledged," said Stafford,  
"They also wish to commend us on our excellent maneuvering capabilities," Jall added with a smirk. "  
Yanick looked back at Stafford, "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice.  
Stafford walked over and took a look at her console. The course schematic showed that the Silverado had flown on a perfect course until suddenly careening through the port wall of the dock and continuing off at a bizarre angle.  
Stafford frowned, "Funny, I don't remember us crashing,"  
"Me neither," piped up Jall, "and I am VERY sure I would remember it if we did."  
"Shut up," said Stafford, "Our sub-light navigational systems must have malfunctioned. Jall, Fifebee, you better look into this. Before we really do crash into something."  
"Understood," replied Fifebee from the science station.  
"Fine," groaned Jall.

Captain's Log, Stardate 56206.4

"Well, here we are again. Right back where we started. Literally. At least we're moving up in the world. We've been ordered to report to slip 4-D in Spacedock, which is one hell of a step up for us. Now we just need to fix this little navigational problem."

Lieutenant Fifebee stood atop the saucer section of the Silverado, running a tricorder over the upper sensor platform. Directly behind her was the bridge dome. Jall was again at the starboard auxiliary console. The large wall panel display of the L-shaped panel provided a more specialized workstation that the Operations console at the front of the bridge.  
"Do you have any idea how f**ked up this is?" said Jall. Displayed on his screen was an image of Fifebee, walking out outside the ship – without a spacesuit!  
"I don't need to breath," Fifebee reminded Jall, "and the range of my holo-relay does extend a short distance beyond the saucer hull.  
"It still looks weird," Jall muttered, "have you located the problem?"  
"Not yet," responded Fifebee.  
"It's gotta be one of those sensor units," Jall insisted, "everything else checks out fine!"  
"I agree."  
"I've already checked the…oh…you agree. Good. Fine. Swell. I'll just shut up then." Jall sat back to monitor Fifebee's tricorder readings.  
"Please do," she replied. Walking towards the edge of the sensor platform she started picking up strange reading from one of the sensor clusters.  
"Are you seeing this?" Jall's voice asked, piped directly into her program (there's no sound in space after all, except for really cool special effects).  
"Yes," she replied, annoyed," this sensor cluster is malfunctioning, and causing the computer to incorrectly compute our position."  
"Stop talking like a f**king Vulcan," snapped Jall, "it's driving me crazy!"  
"Your never ending profanity is having a similar effect on me!" Fifebee snapped back.  
"Hey, I can recall YOU using a few choice words before!"  
"There's a time and a place for everything, including kicking your ass!"  
"You wouldn't have the guts!"  
"Silence, you filthy p'tak!" Fifebee screamed. Klingon cranial ridges had suddenly started growing out of her forehead. She took a deep breath, focused, and the ridges disappeared.  
"My apologize Lieutenant," she said, calm and cool again, "that was the personality of P'Tang, a scientist for the Klingon military."  
"Well I never would have figured that one out!"  
"I have pinpointed the malfunctioning components," Fifebee reported. She knelt on the hull and pulled open an access panel, revealing a mess of fried components covered in a thick, goody sludge.

"So let me get this straight," Stafford said as he paced the conference lounge, "somebody at the manufacturing plant takes a snack break, accidentally seals a jelly-filled donut in a sensor control module, which just happens to get sent to us and then functions properly for several weeks before dying right in the middle of delicate maneuvers?  
"That's correct," stated Fifebee.  
"Why me," muttered Stafford.  
"Because you were mean to me?" asked Jall.  
"No," said Stafford, "being mean to you doesn't count. You're always asking for it! Fifebee, is everything fixed now?"  
"I checked the other modules on that sensor platform. There were no more donuts."  
"Good. Co-ordinate with Ensign Yanick, run a couple of tests. If everything is working properly make arrangements to dock."  
"Understood."  
"I'm taking my break," said Jall, "all this talk of donuts has made me hungry!"

Some time later, Stafford was pacing across the bridge as Ensign Yanick guided the Silverado towards the massive hanger doors of Spacedock. Yanick was again chewing on a thick strand of hair, but this time her attention was divided between her console readouts and the image on screen. Stafford didn't have the heart to tell her that Spacedock tractor beams were doing most of the work at this point.  
Silverado eased carefully into the hanger and began to float towards her assigned berth.

"Now arriving at slip 4-D, U.S. , NCC-135060," announced the Spacedock computer. Mr. and Mrs. Alvin Vens were dining in one of Spacedock's more upscale restaurants. Huge observation windows looked out into the cavernous hanger. Mrs. Vens turned her head towards the incoming ship and took in the dented, mismatched hull plating.  
"Disgraceful, the appearance of that one," she said, nose uplifted.  
"Quite so, my dear," replied her husband, "most undignified."  
"She really should be put out to pasture, a vessel of such obviously poor condition."  
"I quite agree."

Stafford released a held breath as the ship settled into its slip. Immediately a series of umbilicals reached out to various airlocks and connection points all over the ship's hull.  
"Ok, so here we are…now what?" Stafford asked.  
"Captain Stafford, report to Admiral Tunney's office. Deck 23, section B4."  
Stafford shrugged, "That was convenient."

Stafford walked into a large reception room. An attractive young brunette was sitting behind the desk.  
"Hey," he said, "I'm Captain Stafford, I'm supposed to see Admiral Tunney."  
"Of course Captain, go right in,"  
"Don't I wish,' Stafford muttered.  
"Excuse me?" she asked.  
"Um, never mind!"  
Stafford walked through the door into the inner office. It was pretty standard as offices went. A desk. Walls. Things hanging on walls. And a middle aged man with a goatee and admiral's insignia sitting behind the desk. The man stood to great Stafford.  
"Greetings Captain, I'm Admiral Edward Tunney,"  
"Admiral," Stafford said as he shook Tunney's hand.  
"Have a seat," Tunney turned to look out his office window, "so, you've had your ship for a few weeks now. How is she doing?"  
"We've…had our challenges," replied Stafford cautiously.  
"I understand you had a 'challenge' this morning delivering the Stallion."  
"Yes, but we fixed the problem."  
"And what was that problem?"  
"Well…whoever manufactured one of our sensor control modules left a…umm…a fruit-paste-filled high-carbohydrate snack food inside."  
"You mean a jelly donut?" asked Tunney.  
"Um, yeah," answered Stafford, "anyway, Fifebee, Um Lieutenant Jane 5-B tells me that when we came out of the Earth's shadow and direct sunlight hit the hull, the heat melted the jelly, which shorted out the circuitry in one of the guidance sensor modules."  
Tunney turned to face Stafford, "You're kidding, right?"  
"I have her tricorder data right her," Stafford said, handing over an isolinear chip.  
"I see," Admiral Tunney sat down facing Stafford, "I will cut straight to the point, Captain. You have been transferred to my command while Admiral Grant continues to oversee Operation Salvage. Now that you are under my flag I have to figure out what to do with an outdated, recycled ship and a crew that is sorely lacking in experience."  
"She's not that outdated anymore!" objected Stafford, "She's been equipped with top of the line, um, equipment. We're just having some trouble making it all work together."  
"So I see. Captain, I am inclined to let you continue to putter around the local star systems doing easy, menial assignments until you get everything straightened out and gain some experience. Unfortunately that choice is not open to me. Starfleet has determined that the best place for you is far away from here. You're being sent on a tour of exploration in the Beta Quadrant, towards the galactic core. "  
"Yes!" hissed Stafford.  
"Quite," said Tunney flatly. "The details will be sent to your ship. You will spend the next week being supplied and outfitted for this mission, which is likely to be long term."  
"How long term?" asked Stafford.  
Tunney shrugged, "It depends on what you find out there. Your may place your crew on shore leave rotation, provided enough of them are around to assist with loading cargo and supplies for your mission. Oh, and an engineering team will be refinishing your hull. You will be representing the Federation and you need to look your best, not like you've been to hell and back!"  
"Who-hoo!" called out Stafford as he danced around the office, "We're finally getting a paint job!"  
"Captain, please, behave like a professional," Tunney snapped.  
"Ahem, um, yes sir, sorry sir," said Stafford as he sat back down.  
"You will be receiving an additional 100 crewmen, bringing you up to a full complement. I understand there have been many requests to bring families aboard, which you will of course accommodate."  
"Families?" whined Stafford, "You mean kids? Annoying little brats who are going to run around mucking stuff up and causing overall trouble? I thought the Dominion war ended all that' families on starships' crap!"  
"The Dominion war was years ago! We're getting over it!"  
Stafford sighed, "Yes, sir. I'm just not very fond of children."  
"Families can be an excellent way to enrich life on a starship."  
"I bet," muttered Stafford.  
At that moment the terminal on Admiral Tunney's desk started beeping. "Tunney here," he said.  
"Sorry to disturb you, Admiral," came the voice of the receptionist, "but Gail is online for you."  
Tunney sighed, "Patch her through,"  
A middle aged, dark-skinned woman with dreadlocks appeared on the screen.  
"Edward!" she barked, "What is taking you so long? I have been waiting for you to show up here for 15 minutes!"  
"Um, sorry honey," said Tunney.  
"And other thing, you took my morning news! That is MY news! You keep your grubby paws off of it!"  
"Yes, dear," said Tunney.  
"And if I hear of you sweet-talking that attractive young secretary of yours, I WILL kick your ass!"  
"Yes dear,"  
"Now get down here, now!" The 'End Transmission' screen appeared.  
"Your girlfriend?" Stafford asked.  
"My wife," replied Tunney, "you have your instructions Captain. Dismissed."

Stafford was positively skipping as he exited Tunney's office. As he passed the receptionist, he paused, took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently.  
"You are a beautiful woman," he said, "meet me for dinner tonight? I could show you the time of your life!"  
She held up her other hand, revealing a gold wedding band.  
"Or not," Stafford finished. He gave her a big smile then danced happily down the corridor.  
After Stafford was gone, Tunney's secretary gave a sigh of relief and pulled the fake wedding ring off.

"What the hell is taking him so long?" complained Lieutenant Jall.  
"He's meeting an Admiral," Yanick said, "they're probably doing important stuff!"  
"Yeah, but what are we supposed to do? Count the rivets in the hanger bulkhead? He could have let us go off-duty before he left!"  
"Regulations require that some crew remain on-duty on a docked ship unless all systems have been powered down and control has been transferred to the docking facility," stated Fifebee, "as we have not yet been ordered to do so, crew must remain at their stations."  
"Yes," said Jall, annoyed, "I know THAT! Control has already been transferred. So why didn't he send us off-duty?"  
"He probably forgot,"  
"Exactly, he's an idiot!" said Jall.  
"He is also your commanding officer," said T'Parief, "you should watch your tongue, before somebody charges you with insubordination!"  
"Again!" giggled Yanick.  
"Bite me!"  
The rear turbolift swished open and Stafford jumped gleefully onto the bridge.  
"Hello everybody!" he said happily. He gave T'Parief a pat on the back as he passed tactical, gave Fifebee a quick hug, then skipped down to the conn to give Yanick a peck on the cheek. "Isn't it a wonderful day, my friends?"  
"What are you, stoned?" asked Jall.  
"Shut up, San," replied Stafford with a grin, "Where is good old Noonan?"  
"Assisting Mr. Jeffery on deck 10," replied Fifebee. She paused, then asked "Why are you so happy?"  
"I just got our new orders," Stafford said, "Not only are we getting sent out on a mission of exploration but we get shore leave first and we're getting a new paint job too!"  
"Excellent," said T'Parief with a toothy grin, "opportunities for honor, glory and the discovery of tasty new snacks!"  
"Exploration?" asked Yanick, "As in really far away?"  
"Yup!" said Stafford happily.  
"Yippee," muttered Jall.  
"Oh, don't be so negative! This is great! Except for the having kids part. But we get to meet new civilizations, advance our careers AND we get a paint job!"  
"Hold on," said Yanick, "kids? I didn't think giving birth would be part of this assignment!"  
Stafford stared at her blankly for a moment, then laughed, "Not you! We're bringing families aboard. I hate kids, but for a paint job they can give us a f**king nursery school for all I care!"  
"So what's the catch?" asked Jall.  
"The catch," said Stafford, "is that somebody has to stay behind to help co-ordinate loading cargo and supplies for an extended trip. Somebody who isn't really a team player and causes unnecessary problems for the rest of the crew."  
"Oh gee," said Jall flatly, "I wonder who that could be."  
"Have fun!" said Stafford,"Everybody else, you're on leave for the next week. Advise your departments. Operations and Engineering will retain skeleton crews, everybody else can depart."  
"As I don't require leave time, I should stay and assist Mr. Jall," stated Fifebee.  
"Nope," replied Stafford, "afraid not. You should see some Earth culture before you leave. You're coming with me."  
"Are you attempting to seduce me?" asked Fifebee with an arched eyebrow.  
"What? No!" objected Stafford, "I just thought you'd like to see a bit of Earth!"  
"An interesting proposal," Fifebee said," where do you suggest we go?"  
"Remember that city we accidentally went back in time to?"  
"Not really. I was not yet part of the crew."  
"Oh," Stafford frowned, "right. Well, anyway, I wanted to see it now. Toronto, in what used to be Canada."  
"I accept," Fifebee replied.  
"Great," said Stafford, "see you at the starboard airlock in an hour."  
As the other officers piled into the rear turbolift, T'Parief focused on his tactical console. He saw no point in taking shore leave. His family was spread across the Federation. He had taken shore leave on Quo'nos to attend his cousin's Age of Ascension and to visit the Klingon side of his family. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Ensign Yanick standing by his station.  
"Hello?" she said, "Earth to T'Parief? Anybody home?"  
T'Parief gave a grunt of surprise and looked up.  
"My apologies Ensign, I didn't see you there."  
"Obviously," she replied, "so whatcha up to? Aren't you heading out?"  
"No. I have no desire for shore leave,"  
"So you're going to stay here and help Jall?" Yanick frowned, "Why?"  
"I am going to stay here," stated T'Parief, "but I will not be helping Jall!"  
"Ah. Well, look. I thought I'd see if you maybe wanted to do something before we ship out?"  
"You," stated T'Parief, "and me?"  
"Well yeah," said Yanick, "my parents have this gorgeous cattle farm in the prairies. You'd love it! And my parents love meeting my friends and shipmates. You should come by and see us."  
"I see," replied T'Parief, "friends."  
Inside T'Parief felt something sink. He had thought for a short time that Yanick was interested in him. But she had been spending a lot of time with Captain Stafford lately. Having her say the dreaded 'f' word pretty much sunk his chances with her. On the other hand, he was going to be working with her for some time. Refusing her invitation could be rude. Besides, maybe he could convince her he was the better catch…  
"Very well," he said, "you may inform your parents that I would be honored to attend."  
"Oh, cut the formalities!" Trish giggled, "I'll comm you and tell you when!"  
She started walking, then looked back.  
"What do you eat, anyway?"  
"Meat," he replied, "preferably bloody."  
"OK," said Trish, "I think we'll be able to manage that! C ya!" She flashed him another big smile then left.  
"Somebody's gonna get lucky!" said Jall with a smirk.  
"Shut up!"  
"Oh T'Parief," said Jall in a high, mocking effeminate voice, "won't you join us for dinner? It would be ever so delightful!"  
"SHUT UP!"  
"Oh, take me you big lizard you!"  
"ARRRGGGHHHH!"  
T'Parief stalked off the bridge. Jall chuckled.  
"Peace at last."

Foreman Garroth Lynch stood in the cramped cockpit of the construction ship Caterpillar. The U.S. was visible in the front window. Her nacelles were powered down and most of the windows were dark. If one looked very closely at the tunnels connecting her airlocks to the hanger wall one could see the last stragglers disembarking.  
"I can't believe we got these jerks again," he grunted. Few were dreading the homecoming of President Dillon as much as Lynch, who would have to take responsibility for a public relations disaster caused by a prank he pulled on the Silverado crew.  
"Whatcha gonna do, boss?" asked his construction chief.  
"I'm not doing nothing," said Lynch, "Not much anyway. I'm in enough s**t as it is. That doesn't mean I'm not going to push the limits of making them miserable though…"

Lieutenant Jall was sleeping peacefully in his quarters; dreaming of warm sunshine, cool lemonade and hot, tanned bodies. His slumber was disturbed by high-pitched, squealing racket.  
"Huh? What the f**k?" he mumbled as he rolled over in bed. He struggled to sit up. San was slow to wake on a good morning. In the middle of the night, he was practically comatose.  
"Computer, cease wake-up call," he muttered. The squealing continued. "I said f**king stop it!"  
"Wake-up call will not be initiated for 3 hours and 28 minutes," replied the computer, "and watch your language young man! I don't want to hear you using that word!"  
"Make the noise stop!" Jall moaned. He rolled over again and fell out of bed. The impact gave him enough of a jolt to stagger to his feet. He padded naked over to door and poked his head out.  
The sound was less intense in the deserted corridor. As his mind started to clear he noticed that the sound was coming from the direction of the hull. That was ridiculous! Sound didn't travel in space!  
Jall looked out his window into the cavernous hanger of Spacedock. Sitting about ten meters away was a workbee. It had been fitted with some kind of beam emitter, which was being focused on the hull outside Jall's quarters.  
"Silverado to workbee…" Jall squinted at the numbers painted on the tiny ship's hull," …2847-8. What the hell are you doing?"  
"Hidy-ho Silverado!" came a cheerful British voice, "We're just using this here particle beam to do some smoothening work on your hull. Once we finish this up and slap on the new paint you'll be looking good as new!"  
"Um, yeah, about that," said Jall, "you do realize that thing sounds like a cat being hideously tortured? I AM TRYING TO SLEEP!"  
"Terribly sorry, we're having a small problem with our harmonic modulator."  
"FIX IT!"  
"Terribly sorry, we're on a very tight schedule. But don't worry; the noise will go down in about 14 hours or so. Nice legs by the way."  
Jall jumped back from the window and grabbed his housecoat. He returned long enough to direct a raised middle finger out the window, then stormed out of his quarters.

Simon Jeffery walked into Engineering the next morning. He was working 'part-time', so to speak. Stafford had offered him shore leave, but Jeffery had protested.  
"There is way too much work to be done," Jeffery had said, "We've still got enough glitches in the systems to keep me busy for months!"  
"We have months," Stafford had replied, "this is going to be a long trip. You wouldn't want it to get boring, would you?"  
In the end Jeffery had compromised. Like most of the crew he was staying on Earth for the week. He was also coming up to tinker with the Silverado for a few hours every day. Lieutenant Jall was the only person unlucky enough to be assigned to the ship full time.  
Jeffery grabbed his tool kit and started towards Jefferies Tube Junction 23-13B, a major access point for various systems in the rear of the engineering section. One of the EPS power couplings had been fluctuating, causing instabilities in the gravity fields on Deck 24. Several crewmen had complained after being stuck to the ceiling for half an hour.  
After crawling through the tube Jeffery climbed out into the junction, tripping on a soft bundle on the floor.  
"Ow," moaned a voice.  
"AHH!" yelled Jeffery. He stumbled back and rummaged around in his tool kit until he found a laser welder. He pointed it at the pile of blankets and called out; "Identify yourself!"  
"Take a pill," said Jall as he poked his head out of the blankets, "it's just me!"  
"You? What the hell are ye doing here?"  
"Sleeping,"  
"Well I kinda figured that part out!" snapped Jeffery, "what I want to know is why!"  
"Because," said Jall, "this is the most heavily shielded section of the ship, and the crew working on the hull is making an unbelievable amount of racket." Jall was too tired to think of anything sarcastic to say.  
"Oh," said Jeffery, lowering the welder, "that makes sense then. Fine. OK. Sorry about that."  
"No problem," muttered Jall as he gathered his blankets around his thin frame, "hey, could you help me with a problem in Cargo Bay 2? The door won't open, and we have supplies due to be delivered."  
"Are ye asking me as a favor or as the ship's Operations Officer" Jeffery asked with a smirk.  
"Whichever works," Jall replied.  
"Operations Officer. All right, I'll take a look at it once I'm done here."

A few hours later Jeffery and Jall were prying at the loading door of Cargo Bay 2. Although the bay contained a cargo transporter, it was more energy efficient to use the outer doors rather than the transporter if large volumes of cargo were being loaded. Since the Silverado was expected to be out for some time, there were many supplies to be loaded.  
"Man, this thing is seized all to s**t!" gasped Jeffery.  
"I thought duranium didn't rust!" Jall gasped back.  
"It's not rust! Whatever they were hauling in here 50 years ago has congealed, dried and hardened to the consistency of neutronium!"  
Jall continued to chip away at the material caked along the edges while Jeffery had wedged an old-fashioned pry bar into the seam under the door and was pushing down with all his might. He gave up in disgust.  
"This isn't working!" he said, "we need to try something different. He walked out of the cargo bay.  
10 minutes later Jeffery walked back in with a can of WD-2340 Ultra. He proceeded to spray the substance liberally around the edges of the door.  
"And what is that supposed to do?" asked Jall.  
"Hopefully," said Jeffery, "loosen or soften this stuff enough for the door to open!"  
He sprayed for several more minutes.  
"All right Lieutenant," he said to Jall, "give it a try."  
Jall hit the 'Open" button on the console. The door groaned, then slid open an inch or so. The atmospheric containment field snapped on to prevent any air from escaping.  
"It's a start," said Jeffery happily," now close it, and try again."  
This time the door rose about a foot. By working the door open and closed Jall was finally able to get the door open all the way. Bits of the troublesome substance had been scraped off the door and lay on the cargo bay floor.  
"We should analyze this stuff," said Jeffery, "it would make great glue."  
Jall glared at him, "F**k it, I'm just glad it's gone."  
The atmospheric containment field behind them started snapping and fizzling.  
Jall and Jeffery looked at each other.  
"Oh s**t!" they yelled, then ran towards the exit. The field gave up altogether. Atmosphere rushed out of the cargo bay, sucking Jall and Jeffery out the open cargo bay door.

Stafford yawned. He was staying in Officer's Quarters in San Francisco. Accommodations were offered to officers who preferred to stay on the planet surface rather than on their ship or station. His parents had invited him to stay with them for the week, but he had decided against that plan.  
After enjoying a quiet, slow revival (as opposed to an abrupt wake-up call) Stafford showered, shaved and dressed. Leaving his assigned quarters he walked over to the janitorial closet. Inside was Fifebee's holo-relay. Stafford powered up the device. It rose on its anti-grav units and lines of data began to scroll up the display screen as it established a connection to the holographic memory core on the Silverado.  
Fifebee abruptly materialized behind Stafford.  
"I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram. Good morning, Captain," she said icily, "I hope you slept well in your comfortable bed in your private quarters."  
"I'm sorry they were filled to capacity Fifebee," said Stafford, "I guess I thought you wouldn't mind, being turned off and all."  
"I dislike being deactivated," Fifebee replied, "it's very….unsettling."  
"I booked two hotel rooms in Toronto," Stafford said, "I promise we won't have to shut you down again."  
"Thank you, Captain,"  
"And stop calling me Captain. We're on leave. Call me Chris," Stafford said.  
"OK, Chris," Fifebee replied, "you can call me Jane."  
"Great, now that we've gotten the formalities out of the way, let's get breakfast." Stafford saw the look of amusement on Fifebee's face," OK, so I'll eat breakfast and you can keep me company.

Chris and Jane walked a few blocks until they found small sidewalk café. They tucked the holo-relay into a corner and sat down. Stafford ordered bacon, eggs and a cup of coffee. Once his food had been delivered Jane's eyes fluttered for a moment, then a fruit cup materialized in front of her.  
"Neat trick," Chris said.  
Jane smiled, "I've been working on that for a while now. So much interaction between organics takes place during meals. This helps me to better experience that."  
"I suppose it would," Chris said with a nod, "you're trying to learn more about human interactions?"  
"Not really," replied Jane, "my database includes huge amounts of data on the social activities of every race known to the Federation. However theory and practical application are always different."  
"So in other words, we're nothing but an experiment to you?" Chris asked with a frown.  
"Hardly," replied Fifebee, "I am programmed to behave as one of you. That programming encourages me to take place in social interactions like any functional member of society. However I do not wish to be one of you. I have my own unique properties that I wish to retain."  
"You do realize you're talking like a Vulcan again, right?" Chris asked.  
Jane's eyes fluttered again. "That's really getting annoying, isn't it?" she asked, "any time I get into any kind of deep discussion that personality pops up. It makes me sound so…robotic!"  
"Most artificial beings sound like Vulcans," said Chris.  
"Yeah but I don't want to sound like a Vulcan, or an android," said Fifebee, "they're so dull!"  
"We'll just keep working on that then," said Chris, "but about your programming. Doesn't it bother you that your wants and desires were created based on somebody else's ideas of what an artificial being should be like?"  
"No," replied Jane, "doesn't it bother you that your wants and desires are based on instincts that nobody in your species had any control over?"  
"Point taken," said Stafford with a chuckle.  
They sat in silence for a few moments. Jane watched an elderly couple stroll up the street. She took in the clear blue sky visible above the towering buildings. The green leaves growing on the trees, the scent of the bay on the air.  
"Enjoying the view?" Chris asked.  
"It's my first time on a planet!" said Fifebee with a grin.  
"Really? What do you think so far?"  
"It's…interesting!"  
"We have a lot more to see."

Ensign Yanick parked her small shuttlecraft on the landing pad on her parent's property and stepped out. She took a deep breath, savoring the country air, heavy with the scent of nature. Grass, trees and maybe just a bit of cow poo.  
"Trish!" her mother called happily as she came out of the house. She walked quickly to Yanick and engulfed her in a big hug. He father was close behind.  
"How's my little girl?" he said, "we sure weren't expecting to see you back so soon!"  
"Hey dad," Yanick said smiling.  
Rob and Samantha Yanick were a cute couple. He was a shorter man in his late 40s, with just a hint of grey. She was an auburn haired woman in her early 40s. Both adored their daughter.  
Trish's brothers, Sam and Steve came walking out of the house. Both in their late teens, they had decided it was 'uncool' to show any positive feelings toward their sister.  
"Hey brat!" called Sam.  
"Crash any more ships lately?" asked Steve with a laugh.  
"You guys!" wailed Trish. Then she laughed, "Just a small bump."  
"How long are you out for?" asked Rob.  
"Just under a week," said Trish, "then we're going to be out for a long time."  
"Yes!" exclaimed Sam, "I've got dibs on your shuttle until you get back!"  
"Hey," snapped Steve, "f**k you! You had it last time!"  
Samantha smacked Steve upside the head, "I told you to watch your language young man!"  
Fighting an odd sense of déjà vu, Trish followed her family into the house.

After unpacking, Yanick and her family sat down to dinner. Her parents had a replicator, but like many families they preferred food that was hand prepared on special occasions. Samantha pulled a large roast out of the oven and started carving.  
Loading her place with potatoes, carrots, beef and gravy, Trish started to tell her parents about her new assignment.  
"My captain is great," she said through a mouthful of potatoes, "we've been hanging out. We've got this other guy though, complete jerk. He was so mean to me the day we met! But the captain made him renovate my quarters after that. And I'm pretty good friends with Noel Wowryk, she's our doctor. She's a bit of a prude, but we still get along well."  
The Yanicks were used to their daughter's ability to ramble on and on. They loved every minute of it. Hearing about their daughter's life helped them to revive the connection to her, something that was very hard to do when she was away for long stretches at a time.  
"You mentioned," said Rob as he chewed on a chunk of beef, "that one of your shipmates would be dropping by."  
"Yup," said Yanick.  
Everybody looked at her.  
"And?"  
"He'll be dropping by tomorrow."  
"And?"  
"And what?" asked Trish.  
"Well, it's not like you to stop after one sentence," said Samantha, "What's his name, what is he like? Is he a friend, or a 'friend'?" she gave her daughter a conspiratorial smile.  
"His name is T'Parief. He's…kinda quiet. The strong, silent type I guess you could say. He's just a friend right now."  
"Oooh," said Sam with a snicker,"Trish is on the prowl now!"  
"You shut up!"  
Truth be told, Trish really didn't want to tell her parents that the shipmate coming to visit was a 7 foot tall, scaled, fanged, red-eyed lizard. Her parents were among the few people who preferred to live their lives on their own planet, away from the busy cities. They had only met a few aliens in their lives, as opposed to Trish who spent her entire day working with several. She didn't know how they'd react to T'Parief. They weren't even dating! She had a definite interest in him, but he'd been so distant lately.

Stafford and Fifebee took the intercity transporter from San Francisco to Toronto, materializing in a green, grassy park. It was in fact the same park Stafford had beamed down to during his visit to 21st century Toronto. He took a deep breath and sighed happily.  
Things had changed in the past 400 years, that was for damned sure! The park itself still existed, but in a very different form. In the 21st century the park had been a relatively small strip of grass a couple hundred meters wide running between a stream and a series of office buildings and condominiums. The stream still ran, but the buildings were gone, replaced by the taller but more graceful architecture of the late 23rd century. The low buildings that had once existed on the other side of the stream were gone, replaced by another grassy plain surrounded by tall trees. Paths wandered lazily along both sides of the stream before meeting at a graceful bridge.  
There had once been three large bridges crossing the park. Two still existed, but thanks to stronger, lighter materials they were no longer massive concrete behemoths, but slender duranium trusses. A sleek tram zipped across the bridge that had once carried the electric trains that Stafford (and Jall especially) had less than pleasant memories of.  
Stafford took another deep breath. The air was fresh and clean. The slightly foul air of the 21st century was a distant memory for him. Most citizens of the 24th century had never smelled air pollution, except for those Starfleet officers foolish enough to end up on primitive industrial planets. (or several centuries in the past)  
Fifebee looked around, her holo-relay hovering silently behind her. She could see several humanoids enjoying the sunshine. Her database told her than this was a very common activity for most organic species, although she was at a loss to understand why.  
Stafford had wandered over to a large tree and was leaning back against the trunk, looking up at the green leaves.  
"What are you doing?" asked Fifebee.  
"Enjoying nature," said Stafford, "I spend so much time on starships that I forget how much I love it,"  
"You have had holodeck privileges during much of that time. Isn't that good enough?"  
"Holodecks aren't the same," said Stafford with a smile, "um, no offense."  
"None taken,"  
"There are so many little details that the holodeck can't match. The fresh smell in the air, the unevenness of the grass. The way the air feels different as you get closer to the water." Stafford had left the tree and was following the path to the bridge. Leaning on the rail he looked down as the stream gurgled happily beneath him. Ducks swam aimlessly below the bridge.  
Turning away he began to retrace the route he, Wowryk and Jall had taken during their trip to the past.  
"It's amazing how much of this has changed, yet how similar it is," he said, "I've been here once or twice to visit my cousins, but having seen the city as it existed 400 years ago, well, it's stirred an interest in me. I never really cared much about the past before."  
"That is a common result of time travel," said Fifebee, "people who have experienced the past usually express a greater interest in it,"  
"Right," said Stafford, feeling slightly downed by her attitude.  
They followed the path to the street. Pedestrians lined the sidewalks, and an occasional hovercraft skimmed the pavement. As systems such as transporters, shuttles and high-speed trams had been incorporated into public transit, most Earth cities found their streets emptied of vehicular traffic. Most private transports used the skyways.  
Fifebee and Stafford approached the entry to the transit hub. A glittering sign read 'Greater Toronto Transit System – Islington Station'.  
Stafford remembered Islington Station from the 21st century. Primary a large, dingy underground room it had been a major transit hub connecting the cities of Toronto and Mississauga. Above the station at street level busses from both cities loaded and discharged passengers. Below was access to the subway system.  
Islington of the 24th century was similar. It had expanded considerably. Shuttles and air trams had replaced busses, so a large landing pad had been constructed where the bus tunnels had once been. Building on the successes of the subway systems of the 21st century, massive networks of underground trams had spread across the globe. Having ridden on the 21st century version, Stafford couldn't really understand that success, but he had been a frequent user of the modern systems, with their inertial dampeners and speeds bordering on the speed of sound.  
"Fascinating the amount of trouble one must go to in order to move from place to place," Fifebee mused.  
"Transporters may be faster," replied Stafford as they boarded the underground tram heading deeper into the city," but this is way more energy efficient. Besides, transports wreck the whole social aspect of travel!"  
"Travel has a social aspect?" asked Fifebee. The tram sounded three tones, indicating that it was departing, then sped out of the station, zipping over the park and back underground.  
"Well yeah!" said Stafford, "Look at us. We're socializing, having an intelligent conversation. We could have beamed right into the heart of the city, but look what we'd be missing out one!"  
"We saw a park, no different from one of thousands of parks on this planet. Although I admit this conversation is interesting."  
"See, that's the spirit! And the park was special to me, because I was there 400 years ago! I nearly got my ass kicked by this fat woman and I got to watch the cops try to arrest Dr. Wowryk," Stafford grinned.  
"Interesting,"  
Stafford sighed, "Fifebee, you need to relax."  
"Relax?"  
"Yes, relax. Listen to yourself! Other than the occasional visit from one of your personalities, you're behaving like a stereotypical robot! 'Fascinating.' 'Indeed'. "Organic socialization is interesting.' I thought you wanted to develop your own personality?"  
"I do,"  
"Have you decided what kind?"  
"How does one decide that? Based on the information I have, personalities develop as a result of one's unique life experiences and behavioral patters established by early childhood and upbringing, as well as genetic factors."  
"Oh boy," sighed Stafford again, "You're unique, you got that right. Now smile."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Smile! Take your hair out of that tight bun. Get rid of that uniform and wear something more casual- oh! Here's our stop!" Stafford grabbed Fifebee by the hand and pulled her out of the tram. The doors closed and the tram departed.  
"My relay!" exclaimed Fifebee in alarm.  
"Oh s**t!" shouted Stafford. He bolted for the exit and flailed his arms at the nearest hovercraft. Jumping in, he shouted at the computer, "Next tram station east of here, as fast as possible.  
"Welcome to auto-cab," stated the synthesized voice as a pleasant, computer generated female face appeared on the front monitor, "please state the destination."  
"Next tram station east of here, and fast!"  
"Keele tram station, confirmed." The hovercraft pulled onto the nearly empty street and accelerated.  
"So, how about that weather?" asked the voice.  
"Just shut up and hurry!" snapped Stafford.  
"Jerk," muttered the voice. The craft stopped and the door opened. "Thank you for choosing auto-cab! We hope you've enjoyed the ride!" Stafford had already leapt onto the street and was running full tilt into the station. Running down the stairs to the tram platform saw that the tram was nowhere in sight.  
"F**k," he swore."  
"Looking for this?" came Fifebee's voice from behind him, causing him to jump.  
"What? How? What?"  
"Excellent questions," replied Fifebee with a grin, "I simply reset my imaging systems to project me next to the relay then disembarked at this station. There was really no chance of you beating a high speed tram to this station in a surface transport."  
"Oh," panted Stafford as he collapsed against the wall, "good thinking."

After catching his breath, Stafford led Fifebee to High Park. He had only seen a small corner of the large park in the 21st century, but he had come across images during his research into the past. Not much had changed. The grassy green fields and gardens remained. Grenadier Lake still stretched the length of the park. The buildings had long since been replaced, and the massive highways that had bordered the south end of the park were long gone. After the removal of the highways the park had been extended to reach to waterfront, on the shore of Lake Ontario.  
Stafford led Fifebee around the park, pointing out the fountains, ponds and gardens. He was enthusiastic yet relaxed. Fifebee on the other hand was bored silly. She had started composing a paper on the psychological impacts of time travel, an analysis of Captain Stafford's speech patterns and had started indexing the new information she had received in the past few weeks.  
Sensing that she was distracted, Stafford turned to Fifebee. "Am I boring you?" he asked.  
"Yes," she replied, "I have discovered that I do not find nature to be particularly appealing."  
"Oh," said Stafford, a little surprised by her bluntness, "Well, let's head back to the tram and head downtown."  
"Very well."  
They walked in silence for a while. Fifebee felt a slight tugging of….guilt? Chris had been working to show her more of the planet, to assist her in integrating into human society. And she wasn't being very enthusiastic.  
"I am surprised that so much of the old city remains intact," she said, "most major cities were devastated during the third world war."  
"Canada wasn't a major target," replied Stafford, "they were mostly on the sidelines, sending in peacekeepers and accepting refugees fleeing Khan and his 'supermen'. (Author's note: see Eugenics Wars, Star Trek: Space Seed for more info) So far as I can recall, Canada's Armed Forces were completely devastated, but by that time the Coalition had bigger things to worry about. They took out most of Canada's Armed Forces bases and bombed Pearson Airport, Canada's biggest International Airport, about 15 kilometers from here. With no armed forces and limited transport capability Canada was effectively out of the war. Then the Coalition turned their attention elsewhere, and the rest is history. But you probably know this better than I do, being a walking database and all."  
"Yes," said Fifebee, "but I wished to make conversation and to hear your interpretation of events."  
"I see."

As Fifebee and Stafford explored Toronto, Yanick was enjoying a quiet morning on the farm.  
Many officers claimed they had problems sleeping without the comforting thrum of a ship's engines. Yanick figured they were crazy. In her childhood home, with nothing but the sound of crickets coming in her window she slept better than she had in ages and awoke shortly after dawn feeling fully rested. After a huge family breakfast Sam and Steve went off to school while Rob checked the heard. Trish composed a brief message to T'Parief, giving him beam-down co-ordinates and advising him to come down at any time. Signing the message with a happy face she sent it and went outside.  
Walking through the farmyard, dodging cow patties, she passed through a bush then shimmied through a fence into the pasture. She gave a sharp whistle, then waited expectantly. Shortly afterward a large, tan horse came trotting towards her.  
"Fred!" she squealed in delight.  
Slowing to a walk the horse tossed his head and whinnied softly. Trish produced a large carrot, which the horse eagerly accepted. Leading him towards the corral, Trish relayed all the recent events in her life to her horse, who listened very attentively as he crunched his carrot.  
She saddled him up, and left for a nice, long ride around the farm.

After a few hours, she returned to the farmyard, unsaddled Fred and led him around the corral for several minutes to cool him off. Satisfied, she led him back to the pasture and went inside for lunch.  
Samantha had taken the day off from her job at the town's comm array to visit her only daughter. She had prepared a light lunch, which she brought out to the patio.  
"So how did you meet this young man you're bringing over?" Samantha asked.  
"Oh, Mom," sighed Yanick, "don't be so nosy!"  
"I just want to learn about my future son-in-law!"  
"MOM!" yelped Yanick, aghast, "He's one of my shipmates! We're not even dating yet, never mind marriage!"  
"You must like him though, to be inviting him out here," said Samantha with a smile.  
"Well, yeah…"  
"So how did you meet?"  
"Well, we were the first senior officers to arrive on the Silverado. The captain showed up a few days later. It wasn't exactly a choice assignment. We were both cranky, and we kinda got into a bit of a fight!"  
"Fight?" asked Samantha.  
"He made a rude comment regarding a dead hamster, and I kinda got upset."  
"You and your animals," Samantha said with a chuckle.  
"Anyway, we were hanging out together at this party in the crew lounge, and we were getting along really well! "  
"You didn't…do anything, did you?"  
"That's none of your business mom!" wailed Trish. She took a sip of her lemonade, "but no. He was pretty hammered, but we talked, a lot. But he's been really distant lately. I don't have a clue why."  
"Ahh, so you're trying to get close again," said Samantha with a knowing smile, "oh, I remember some of the stunts I used to pull to get a man's attention!"  
"I SO don't wanna know!" said Trish with a sigh.  
They ate in silence for a few moments.  
"Mom," Trish finally said, "there's something else you should know."  
"Yes honey?"  
"He's….not really human."  
"You're dating an alien?" said Samantha, surprised.  
"Don't sound so shocked mom, it's the 24th century!"  
"I'm just shocked that you think it's a big deal! Why, I remember this Rigellian tourist who wandered out here when I was in college…oh, the fun we did have!"  
"Yeah, but what will dad say?"  
Samantha nodded knowingly, "Your father is very…conservative when it comes to that kind of thing. He's just going to have to meet this guy and see that there is nothing to worry about. Does he at least look fairly human?"  
"Not really. He's a seven foot tall half-lizard."  
"Oh dear."

T'Parief materialized on a grassy lawn in front of a large house. The large sign reading "Yanick Farms' confirmed that he had arrived at the correct location.  
He walked up to the front door and reached down for the doorbell. His sensitive hearing could pick up some of the voices inside.  
"Steve," came a female voice, "get the door!"  
"I'm busy!"  
"Well I'm cooking supper, so get to it!"  
"Fine!"  
The door opened revealing a teenage male human. The boy looked up, and up, and up, finally looking straight into T'Parief's red eyes.  
"AHHHH!" The kid screamed and slammed the door.  
T'Parief sighed and leaned against the doorframe. He could still hear voices.  
"Sam, there's something at the door!"  
"What is it?"  
"I dunno, but it's big and it's got fangs!"  
"Quick, get my phaser!"  
"Wait, boys, no!" came the female voice again.  
Phaser?  
The door opened again and a low power phaser beam shot out, hitting T'Parief in the chest and knocking him back. Steve jumped out the door, yelling.  
"Take that!"  
The phaser was pathetically low powered. It might have been great for getting rid of rodents or target practice, but to T'Parief it was just painful.  
"OWWWW!" he roared.  
Steve fired the weapon again. T'Parief dodged and started running. As much as he hated to run from a fight, it wouldn't be good for Trish or her parents to see him fighting with their son.  
"Steve! You little bastard! Stop it!" screamed Trish.  
"Watch your mouth young lady!" came the voice from the house.  
"What?" said Steve.  
"That's my friend!"  
"He is?"  
"I am!" snapped T'Parief, "so stop shooting me!"  
"Oh, sorry." Steve looked sheepish.  
"What's going on out here- OH MY GOD!" exclaimed Ron Yanick.  
"Hi daddy," said Trish, "Um, this is Lieutenant Commander T'Parief."  
"Pleasure," said T'Parief as he extended his hand, claws retracted.  
"Um, um, hi" Ron stammered, "excuse me!" He dashed off.

"Did you know her 'friend" was a gigantic alien lizard!" Ron was asking Samantha inside the house as Trish showed T'Parief around the farm.  
"Yes, I did honey."  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
"I wanted to see you scream."  
"That's not funny! Why didn't she tell me about this?"  
"Apparently," said Samantha, "she was scared you'd get upset, or something ridiculous like that."  
"What am I supposed to do? My little girl is dating a reptile!"  
"Look dear, number one, they're not dating. Number two, it's the 24th century! Aliens exist! We just to be supportive of her, and be nice to him. It's probably just some phase anyway."  
"Right," grumbled Ron, "a phase."

T'Parief and Yanick were walking past the corral.  
"I'm sorry!" Trish was saying, "My dad doesn't have much experience dealing with ali-um, non-Terrans. I was hoping to find a way to break the news to him gently, before you arrived here.  
"I understand," T'Parief rumbled, "I am accustomed to people being shocked at my appearance. Usually however, they do not try to shoot me!"  
"Yeah, Steve overacted a bit. He's been watching too many holo-vids about the Dominion War."  
"His behavior is similar to that of a certain shipmate of ours."  
"Hey! Don't you go insulting my brother like that!"  
Ron chose that moment to walk up.  
"So, how are you kids doing?" he asked, shakily. His eyes kept darting to T'Parief's razor-sharp teeth.  
"We're OK, daddy," said Trish.  
"I am well."  
"I'm sorry about the welcome," said Ron, "we're not used to entertaining guests of your, um, size here."  
"I understand, it's fine, I assure you."  
"Great. So, if you don't mind me asking, what species are you anyway?"  
"I am half Gorn, one quarter Klingon and one quarter Andorian."  
"Wow," said Ron as his eyes widened," that must make for one hell of a family reunion."  
"Indeed."  
They had approached the heard of cattle.  
"These here," said Ron, "are beef cattle. That's what we're having for supper. Replicators are fine, but there is nothing like the real thing."  
"Tell me about it," rumbled T'Parief, "they can't do justice to anything raw."  
"Um, right," said Ron, "So I guess you like you steak extra rare then?"  
"I think bloody is the word he used," giggled Trish. She was just thrilled that her father was making an effort to get along with T'Parief.  
"Yes," T'Parief replied, "the rarer the better." He indicated the nearest cow. "May I?"  
"Um, sure, take a look," said Ron.  
Climbing carefully over the fence, T'Parief approached the cow, grateful that he had worn boots. The cow stared dumbly at him. He looked carefully in the eyes and at the nose. He ran his hands over the animals flank.  
"An excellent specimen," he said, "in good health. The general feel of the muscle tissue indicates that this cow should be particularly tender."  
As Ron's jaw dropped Trish giggled.  
"I didn't know you knew anything about cattle!" she said.  
"I took a food preparation course on the Gorn homeworld. It was heavy on livestock selection."  
"Wow," said Ron.  
T'Parief parted the fur along one flank, checking the skin color. Snapping his jaws down, he took a tiny bit out of the animal's flank. The cow mooed in protest then took off running.  
T'Parief licked the blood off his lips.  
"Yes," he said, "excellent flavor and texture."  
Trish just stood at the fence with her mouth hanging open in horror. Ron had fainted dead away.

Jeffery screamed as he was sucked out of the cargo bay and into the black void beyond. There was loud 'CLANG!' followed by intense pain as he crashed into a very solid surface.  
"Are we dead yet?" croaked Jall.  
Opening his eyes, Jeffery could see into Cargo Bay 2 through the open door. What he couldn't see was the interior of the Spacedock hanger bay, which he had thought would be his last sight as he perished in the harsh vacuum.  
He became aware that he was lying on hard, cold metal. He could hear the shrill whistle of escaping air. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards the cargo bay door.  
"What the hell happened?" gasped Jall.  
"The outer hull doors were closed!" said Jeffery, "otherwise we would have been sucked right into space! Hurry up, these doors aren't meant to be airtight!"  
The cargo bays on the Silverado and most Starfleet ships where located right next to the outer hull. The cargo bays were always huge, square rooms. Anybody who looked at a starship would notice that the large doors visible inside the cargo bay never seem to appear on the exterior of the ship. The reason for this is that the doors are covered by outer hull plating, which is setup to slide out of the way when access to the cargo bay is required. Fortunately, Jeffery and Jall had left the outer panels shut when they were working on the inner door. Air had rushed out to fill the gap between the inner door and the outer hull, but the other hull plating had prevented them from being sucked into space.  
Jeffery hit the 'close' button on the bay door and collapsed to the floor.  
"That was WAY too f**king close!" he muttered.  
"I just…we just….I almost….ugghhh…." Jall passed out.  
"Every cloud has a silver lining," muttered Jeffery as he dragged Jall's unconscious body out of the cargo bay.

Stafford and Fifebee rode the tram to the Union Transit Terminal. The terminal was located at the very border of downtown Toronto, between the city and the lake. Following the dawn of space exploration, population pressure had eased considerably on Earth as more and more people left to settle other worlds. The drop in population pressure, combined with the sharply declining use of the automobile had drastically changed the appearance of downtown Toronto over the centuries.  
While once the towers and skyscrapers had reached right to the waterfront, the majority of the buildings in the city were north of the Union Transit Terminal. Instead of highways and concrete, the quarter mile stretch of land between Union Terminal and the lake was a medley of trees, parks, gardens and fountains. Standing at the Grand Foyer of Union Terminal Stafford had the city at his back, and the trees ahead of him. Poking out of the foliage the CN Tower still stood, stretching to the sky.  
"More nature?" Fifebee asked.  
"No, we're going into the city. I know you've seen enough nature," Stafford said. They walked past the Zhang Memorial and boarded an auto-cab to take them along Yonge Street. As they went deeper into the city the buildings grew taller, eventually turning the street into a tiny crack in a canyon of duranium and glass. The ground levels of many buildings were dedicated to shops and services. An additional "service level" also ran along the 50th storey, with service windows and mini landing pads available to hover traffic.  
Stafford tried to imagine how the city would seem in the eyes of one of the people he had met during his journey to the past. To him, it was just another big city. He looked out the window at a massive medical complex, 'St. John's Medical Centre', thinking of the deaf boy on the subway who could have had an aural implant done in an hour. Or Trish, the blond woman who was ready to call the cops on Jall. Or the fat woman who tried to have Wowryk arrested. They wouldn't have much luck here; police were hardly needed as there was virtually no crime.  
He recalled the condition of the 21st century city itself. The grungy appearance of the transit station, litter scattered along the street, the cold, hurried march of the residents. Or one of those unfortunate souls left sitting on the sidewalk, begging for money or food. One of those people would undoubtedly be shocked by the cleanliness and apparent wealth and attitude of this city. Everywhere he looked, Stafford could see happy, smiling people going about their lives, greeting each other on the street and generally enjoying the beautiful sunny day. Public replicators were available throughout the city; no one wanted for anything.  
It had taken centuries for Earth to evolve into the paradise it had become. Having seen the past, Stafford suddenly felt a great appreciation for the effort required to make that change.  
The cab dropped them off near the relatively small buildings of the University of Toronto. Compared to the surrounding skyscrapers, the university appeared small, but it had been substantially expanded since the 21st century. The Royal Ontario Museum, once a separate entity, had been completely absorbed by the university. As had the Ontario Art Gallery and the Toronto Exhibition Center. The university attracted students from all over the Federation, and had become a major social center for the entire region.  
"So what are we going to do?" Fifebee finally asked.  
"Um, I dunno," Stafford said, surprised, "I was just wandering around, trying to soak in the atmosphere."  
"And how does one do that?"  
"Don't have a clue."  
"I suggest we explore the museum, and other points of interest," stated Fifebee, "I have uploaded a listing of popular locations into my memory systems."  
"Um, OK."

After exploring the Museum and Casa Loma, the huge and ancient castle parked right in the middle of the city, Fifebee took Stafford to the CN Tower for dinner. Getting seats wasn't a problem, apparently there was a table reserved for Starfleet captains….they just hadn't ever had one show up until now. The Tower had required a good bit of work to carry it through the years, but it had been declared a historic landmark and thus preserved. Truth be told though, Stafford was starting to wish he had come to the city alone. Fifebee had started to demonstrate a coldness that was grating on Stafford's nerves. She had said very little positive about the city or Earth in general, and Stafford was getting the idea that there was a lot more going behind those dark eyes that one might think.  
Stafford and Fifebee sat next to the windows. As the restaurant slowly rotated they were presented with an amazing view of Lake Ontario, then a wall of buildings.  
"Hard to believe this used to be the tallest building in the world," Stafford mused as he squinted at the nearest skyscraper. Somebody was undressing in the bedroom, but he couldn't make out specifics.  
"Indeed," said Fifebee, "I find many things about the 21st century to be unbelievable. Did you know that humans used to kill each other because of the deity they worshiped? They would strap explosives to their bodies and detonate, killing as many innocent bystanders as possible! I can't imagine such stupidity!"  
"A lot of things happened that we aren't very proud of," said Stafford, "but we've moved past those times. Coming here has reminded me of how much we have to appreciate. What do you think overall? This is your first visit to a planet after all."  
"Honesty? I find it slightly sickening."  
Stafford frowned. That wasn't really the answer he was hoping for.  
"Everywhere I look, green things are growing. Small organic creatures are running, flying or crawling about. Humanoids are constantly walking about, sweating, belching, releasing waste material and consuming food. It's disconcerting."  
"Sounds like you like being aboard ship much better," Stafford mumbled.  
"Indeed," said Fifebee, "on a ship there is order. 'A place for everything, and everything in its place.' Impurities are filtered from the air; secretions are cleansed from all surfaces."  
"But a ship can be so sterile!" Stafford protested, "I mean, Silverado isn't exactly a shining example of cleanliness, but don't you enjoy the scent of fresh air?"  
"I do not smell," replied Fifebee, "and thus do not care."  
A waiter brought Stafford's dinner. This time Fifebee didn't bother to create her simulated meal.  
"Is it all right if I eat, or am I just going to make you sick?" Stafford asked, with just a slight heaping of sarcasm.  
"I've offended you," said Fifebee.  
"Yeah well, having my species referred to as 'walking, sweating, stinking organics' will do that to me every time!"  
"Perhaps I should return to the ship and permit you to enjoy your stay in peace."  
"Y'know what?" said Stafford angrily, "that's probably a good idea!"  
Fifebee collected her holo-relay and departed, leaving Stafford alone to contemplate the city outside.

After recovering from his near death experience (thanks to a bucket of cold water, courtesy of Jeffery) Jall was back in the cargo bay. This time he was up on the second level manning the tractor beam control console, ready to receive freight. The gravity field in the cargo bay had been set to minimal and the inner and outer doors opened. Snuggled up beside the Silverado was the Kleyson, a supply vessel. A cylindrical force field connected the cargo bays on both ships.  
On more modern vessels the process of receiving freight was becoming more and more heavily automated, but still required living beings to oversee the machines. In the case of the Silverado, Jall would have to follow the computer's directions to manually sort and stack each piece of cargo.  
"You almost ready over there, Silverado?" came the voice of the Kleyson's supercargo.  
"Yeah, yeah," said Jall, annoyed, "don't get your knickers in a twist!" He made a few final adjustments to the tractor beam emitter. "OK, start sending stuff over."  
A single cargo container was nudged out of the Kleyson's hold. It glided through the force field tunnel then passed through the Silverado's open bay doors. Jall deftly snagged the container with a tractor beam and deposited it on a cargo rack.  
A second container came through. Jall again snagged it, checked his display screen, and gently set the container down in the spot indicated by the computer.  
Boring! Jall thought to himself. Out load he said, "Hey Kleyson, can we speed this up a bit? I've got a lot to do before the day is over."  
"I thought you'd never ask," the supercargo replied. Containers began to come through more frequently. Jall was able to quickly adjust to the new pace.  
"C'mon!" he said with a laugh, "I though we were speeding up here!"  
"Is that a challenge?" the supercargo's voice was suddenly silky.  
Two crates came flying towards the Silverado. Jall snagged one then the other, but was barely able to set them both down in time.  
"Um, OK," he said nervously, "you beat me, you win!"  
Two more crates came floating through the open door. Again Jall was barely able to place then in time.  
"Cut it out!" he wailed.  
"HA-HA-HA!" laughed the other cargo operator as she sent 3 more crates through the tunnel, "It's too late to back down now! You sound so tense, how about some nice relaxing music while we work?"  
Jall grabbed two of the crates and was able to place them. The third bounced against the cargo bay wall. He nudged it into a corner; he'd worry about it later.  
As four more crates came flying through the door, a pulsing electronic beat began to play over the intercom. Any 20th century video game fan would have instantly recognized the theme from 'Tetris'.

"Hey boss," Lynch's construction chief called," take a look at this!"  
The construction ship Caterpillar was sitting near the Silverado's starboard nacelle, supporting the workbee's repainting the hull panels. Visible out of the view port was the Kleyson. Cargo modules of all shapes and sizes were shooting from the Kleyson to the Silverado. Faint flickers of a tractor beam were barely visible as somebody tried desperately to control the onslaught. Two large crates wedged themselves into the cargo bay door. Several smaller crates crashed into them, splitting open and spilling their contents throughout the force-field tunnel.  
Garroth Lynch cackled in pleasure as he began to compose a 'Thank-you' card to the crew of the Kleyson.

Trish Yanick and T'Parief sat on the patio outside the house. Samantha was fussing over Ron inside, who had finally regained consciousness.  
"I didn't realize it would upset you!" T'Parief said for the 5th time, "On the Gorn homeworld, it's polite to taste the livestock!"  
"This isn't the Gorn homeworld," Trish said.  
"I know that!" T'Parief grunted.  
Samantha came out of the house.  
"Well he's calm now at least," she said, "and dinner will be ready in an hour."  
"I should apologize," said T'Parief as he started to stand.  
"No, no, no!" objected Samantha, "Best just not to mention it. It was an honest mistake. If you mention it, you'll just upset him all over again."  
"Then I apologize to you for the inconvenience this has caused."  
Samantha waved the apology away.  
"Please dear, when you've got three kids to manage, having somebody take a bite out of a cow is almost a relaxing change!" she turned to Trish and whispered; "So polite! And look at that build! I bet he's hung like a-"  
"MOTHER!" gasped Yanick as she planted her hand over Samantha's mouth, muffling whatever she was about to say.  
"It's true!" giggled Samantha, "look at the size of his feet!"  
T'Parief looked over at them.  
"I'm sorry, I missed that…"  
"Just as well!" Trish said hurriedly. She grabbed her mother's arm and ushered her into the house, "we'll take care of dinner, just relax! Take a walk. Just don't bite anything!"

T'Parief had wandered around the house, coming to the landing pad off to one side. A basketball net had been affixed to the wall of the small shuttle hanger, around which Sam and Steve were having a game of one-on-one. Seeing T'Parief approach, Sam passed the ball in his direction.  
"Head's up big guy!" he called.  
T'Parief tried to snag the ball as it whizzed past him. It hit his hand and bounced straight up. He barely managed to get a hold of it. Looking curiously at Sam he called out.  
"Um, what do I do with this thing?"  
"Throw it through the hoop!" called Steve.  
"Bizarre human customs," muttered T'Parief as he chucked the ball at the hoop. It missed by about 5 feet. Steve smirked.  
"I thought good aim was a requirement for Starfleet Security!"  
"I'm much better with a phaser."  
"I'd hope so! I'd hate for some hideous green alien to swallow my sister cuz you couldn't take care of her."  
T'Parief frowned at the boy. Sam snickered.  
"Oh," said Steve, realizing his mistake.  
Sam had retrieved the ball.  
"Here," he said, passing the ball back to T'Parief, "try from a bit closer. I bet you could dunk really well!"  
Dunk! There was something he recognized! Ensign Dar'ugal was fond of 'dunking' his donuts in a mug of coffee during his breaks. "But what do donuts have to do with this activity?" he asked.  
Sam and Steve exchanged glances.

"Oh isn't that nice," said Samantha, looking out the window, "he's playing ball with the boys!" she frowned, "Or trying to, anyway. I thought you had to have good aim to get into Starfleet Security."  
"You should see him with a phaser," Trish muttered.  
"He hasn't sliced either of them open yet, has he?" asked Ron darkly.  
"Naw," said Trish, "he's only ever done that once."  
"WHAT?"  
Oops she though. Out loud, she said, "We were trapped in that dream reality I told you about. If he hadn't killed Jall we would never have escaped."  
"KILLED? Why are you hanging around with this thing?" demanded Ron.  
"He's a really nice guy once you get to know him," said Trish, "And Jall wasn't really dead, it was all a dream!"  
There was a loud 'POP!" sound. Looking out the window Trish could see the remains of the basketball hanging off one of T'Parief's clawed fingers. He sighed as the boys laughed hysterically.

Dinner was finally being served. The Yanick family and T'Parief were seated around the table as Ron brought a plate of steaks in from the barbeque. Samantha passed around baked potatoes and vegetables. She had found a short stool for T'Parief, as his tail didn't fit in most chairs. Ron dished the steaks out, serving rarest and bloodiest to T'Parief.  
"Generally," said Ron, "we find it tastes better after you cook it a bit. But at least you waited until it was dead this time."  
Samantha kicked him under the table.  
T'Parief picked up the utensils and cut into his steak. He gingerly raised a red, dripping piece to his nose, sniffed it then popped it into his mouth. A burst of flavor exploded into his mouth. Subtle spices brought a tingle to his tongue. He started to chew, bringing forth another rush of flavor as the meat released its juices. His eyes closed and he released a loud sigh of pleasure.  
"Oh," he said, "that is GOOD!"

The Author would like to take a moment to wipe the drool off his chin

"This is amazing!" exclaimed T'Parief as he popped another chunk of steak into his mouth, his sharp teeth making short work of it. He sampled the other dishes as well. Samantha's cooking was amazing, but the steak drove his senses wild.  
Samantha plopped another slab of meat down in front of T'Parief.  
"I figured by the size of you that you'd have a big appetite!" she said with a grin.  
The conversation at the table wandered from T'Parief's experiences on the Silverado to Ron's cattle raising techniques. T'Parief's interest in what he did pleased Ron. Anybody who liked steak so much couldn't be that bad…

After dinner they moved into the living room for a drink.  
"Trish," said Ron, "could you run outside and check the fence? I think I might have left it open."  
"Um, OK," Trish glanced at T'Parief then left. After she left, Ron turned to T'Parief.  
"All right," he said, "you're not perfect. It's not fair to expect perfection. But you seem like a decent fellow. And so I want to know; what are your intentions with my daughter?"  
"My intentions?" T'Parief asked, confused.  
"Why are you hanging around with my daughter? Are you looking for someplace to sow your oats? Because I will tell you that if you hurt my little girl, I will kick your ass, even if you are 7 feet tall with claws!"  
"I have no dishonorable intentions with your daughter," said T'Parief. Geez, it's Dr. Wowryk all over again he thought. "I think she is a very kind, friendly person. I enjoy her company. However I believe she is becoming romantically involved with somebody else. She wants to be 'friends'."  
"Oh," said Samantha," really? Who is it?"  
"I probably shouldn't say."  
"Well, thank you for being honest with us," Ron said, "now sit back and have a drink."  
The rest of the evening passed in relative peace. Finally, T'Parief said his good-byes and took his leave. Trish caught him on his way out the door.  
"Thanks for coming," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek, "I'll see you on ship?"  
"Of course. T'Parief to Spacedock, one to beam up."  
"Wait your turn," came the voice of the Spacedock transporter controller, "I've got more than just you to take care of!"  
"Tale your time," muttered T'Parief.

Stafford spent the night alone in the Toronto branch of Starfleet Hospitality. His small, utilitarian quarters were more than enough for him.  
After enjoying a quiet breakfast by himself, Stafford decided to visit the zoo. He didn't see many animals on starships, so it should be interesting.  
The Toronto Zoo was a massive complex, and Stafford could tell from the map that he would be spending most of his day there. He grabbed a map padd, picked a route and started walking.  
He started in the Earth segment of the zoo. Walking along, looking at the animals frolicking happily in the large environments he began to relax again. Fifebee's attitude had upset him more than he had thought. Maybe he just needed some alone time, some time to escape the pressure of having various people demanding his attention. The chance to just wander around on his own and do whatever HE wanted.

After exploring the zoo, including the special Andorian Wildbeast exhibit, Stafford sat to dine at a small restaurant. After a relaxing meal he decided that he would like to find a good pub and sit back for a drink. He took the tram back to the core of the city and started walking.  
As he walked east of Yonge Street, he started to notice subtle changes in the atmosphere. Rainbow ornaments were appearing on the buildings. The area was pretty crowded, but something was…wrong. Something about the throng of people on the street felt strange to Stafford, but he couldn't quite figure it out.  
Coming to the next street, Stafford saw numerous outdoor cafes and coffee shops lining the sidewalks. Loud music blasted out of several buildings, and some of the strangest looking people he had ever seen were walking by. There was one fellow wearing a spiked collar. And nothing else. The overall theme seemed to be 'the less, the better.' And why the heck was that guy's hair 2 feet tall?  
"Excuse me," he said, flagging down a passing pedestrian, a person of indiscernible gender with long hair and an anorexic build, "where can a guy find a good pub?"  
"A good pub?" the man (?) asked in a nasal, high pitched voice," whatcha looking for? Jocks? Bears? Twinks?"  
"What?" asked Stafford, confused.  
"C'mon dear," exclaimed the man (?) with a flick of his wrist, "do you want muscle guys, big guys, or skinny guys!"  
"Who said anything about guys?" exclaimed Stafford, "Yuck!"  
The man (?) snorted and put his hands on his hops, "Welcome to Church Street honey," it said with distain, "you're not gonna find anything BUT guys here! If you're looking for the breeder ladies, you'll want to twirl your little ass around and go back the way you came."  
Stafford suddenly realized what was wrong with the crowd. There were almost no women! And the women that were there were holding hands with…each other? And so were the guys! Experiencing a sudden surge of panic, Stafford spun around and ran back the way he came, eager to get as FAR away as humanly possible.  
"Bitch!" called the man (?) behind him.  
Stafford kept running, another unsuspecting victim of Toronto's Gay Ghetto.

As Stafford was fleeing from his unique encounter, Commander Noonan was having a very different type of unique encounter.  
He was seated in an exquisitely appointed underground room. Heavy wooden beams supported the ceiling. Numerous lamps and candles bathed the room in a gentle light. Noonan himself sat in a large, comfortable chair. She sat across from him.  
He had received her summons. He knew that to refuse would be extremely unwise. He had met her representatives at the indicated place and time. He didn't resist as they blindfolded him and led him into a small shuttle. He was shuttled to a small transporter complex and beamed somewhere. The air was dry, and a bit crisp. After being led around in circles he was taken down a stairwell, though several tunnels and finally into this room where his blindfold was removed and he found himself facing her.  
She was as glorious as the legends told. Huge volumes of curly red hair. A beautiful, pale face. Her waist was frighteningly slim. She looked up at him.  
"You know why you are here, Matthew Noonan," she said.  
"I can guess," he replied.  
"We did not interfere with your decision to join Starfleet," she went on, "it has happened before, although that other one did not last long. We are concerned with recent events however."  
"The new mission," Noonan said knowingly.  
"Precisely. It was anticipated that the Silverado would not leave the general vicinity of Earth. That is why we allowed the assignment. Now we learn that you will be going beyond the boundaries of the Federation these people have become part of. None of our kind has ever attempted such a venture. The dangers are great, and largely unknown."  
"I understand the dangers," Noonan said gravely, "do you intend to permit me to continue serving in Starfleet?"  
"It is not our place to refuse you," the woman said, "so long as you continue to abide by our rules. You have followed our ways very well, and have taken advantage of what this new world can offer you," she gave a small smile, "I am actually jealous. With the technology available today you can almost live your life as one of them."  
"I've been lucky," Noonan replied.  
"Yes you have," her face hardened, "we have no idea what will happen as you travel farther from this planet. A trip the distance you will be travelling has never been attempted. And your responsibilities to your ship and crew will undoubtedly put you in situations where you are in greater danger than they might suspect."  
"That has already happened," said Noonan. He explained to her his experience on the Stallion and how the radiation field there had affected him.  
"Were you not wearing protection?"  
"I had not applied the cream. I had not expected to need it in such a place."  
"Interesting," she said. She looked over at one of her associates. He left, then returned with a small device.  
"Take this," the woman told him, handing him the object.  
"What it is?"  
"It is a 'personal low-power metaphasic energy shield'," the woman frowned as she forced the unfamiliar words from her mouth, "it will help protect you from such hazards. But do not depend on it, like all technology it is fallible. Use the cream where necessary, but carry this with you always."  
"I understand."  
"One last thing," she said, "you will become attached to them. It is unavoidable. I have tried to warn young ones against becoming too attached to the humans. They never can. But you must be aware of it, and you must remember our rules. You have done very well thus fare. Do not falter." With a small gesture she indicated that the interview was over. Her associates again blindfolded Noonan and let him from the room.  
A young looking man with dark hair walked out of the shadows.  
The woman looked at him inquiringly. What do you think?  
He gave a small smile. He is no danger. Foolish perhaps, but no danger.  
Let us hope you are right. He is in a position to cause many problems for us.

Jall was in the Silverado's waste processing center, plotting his revenge. Too much stress and too little sleep had had a frightening effect on him. His hair stuck out in all directions, and there was an insane tone to his mutterings.  
He was hunched over a rack containing a single torpedo casing. Having removed most of the internal components, he was now rebuilding it into the perfect revenge machine.  
"Mess with me, huh?" he muttered, "Keep me up all night? Throw crates at me? I'll show you! I'll show you all! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

Late in the middle of the station's night cycle, Jall crept through the corridors, his prize in tow. Sneaking down to the engineering levels he completed his act of sabotage, then returned to the Silverado. Maybe now he could sleep….

Jeffery returned to the Silverado to begin his morning's work. He had come with what he thought was an ingenious way to power the Silverado's pulse phaser cannon. He just needed some supplies from the cargo bay…  
Cargo Bay 2 was a disaster.  
Gravity had been shut right off. In one small corner, cargo containers were properly sorted and stacked. In the majority of the bay, crates floated, spinning slowly and bouncing against each other. Several had broken, spilling their contents to float around the bay. Jeffery lost his balance as he left the normal gravity field and was sent pin wheeling across the bay, crashing into a crate of medical supplies then becoming ensnared in an extremely large bra. Somebody's luggage, obviously.  
Jeffery wasn't much of a fighter. He did a pretty good 'Angry Scotsman' impression, but was quick to back down when challenged. Usually. In this case, he was ready for blood. Grabbing the nearest heavy object he could find, he worked his way back to the exit.  
"Computer," he snapped, "where's Lieutenant Jall?"  
"Watch you tone with me!" stated the computer.  
"F**K!" shouted Jeffery.  
"And watch your language too!"  
Jeffery took a deep breath.  
"Computer, please tell me the location of Lieutenant Jall!"  
"Lieutenant Jall is in the men's locker room, adjacent to the gymnasium."  
"He's dead meat!"  
"Play nice, boys!"

T'Parief returned to the Silverado, intent only on working on his beloved pulse phaser cannon. He and Jeffery had been working for some time on trying to get enough power to run the weapon without blowing out the power conduits.  
Walking through the corridors, T'Parief heard a wailing scream. Jall came running by with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Jeffery passed by seconds later, swinging a large pipe wrench.  
"Come back here ye meddling twit!" screamed the normally timid Jeffery.  
"Somehow," T'Parief muttered to himself, "I just really don't want to know."  
Realizing that somebody would have to act as the voice of reason, T'Parief gave chase.  
He caught up to Jeffery just as Jeffery was about to catch up to Jall.  
"STOP!" T'Parief roared.  
Jeffery and Jall skidded to a halt, scared out of their wits.  
"What in the various underworlds is going on?" he demanded.  
"This idiot trashed the cargo bay!" stated Jeffery.  
"It wasn't my fault! It was that bitch from the Kleyson!" objected Jall.  
"Stop!" snapped T'Parief, "I do not care what has happened. But you will both fix it. The captain will be back in 4 days, and if this ship is not in perfect shape by then, you will both be very unhappy!"  
"Who died an put you in charge?" asked Jall.  
T'Parief bared his teeth."  
"I'm on it!" Jall said as he scurried away.  
"Nice job," Jeffery said, "atta way to handle him!"  
T'Parief glared at him. Technically he and Jeffery held the same rank. T'Parief on the other hand had seniority.  
"Right, never mind," said Jeffery.

Several Days Later…

Captain Stafford walked briskly though the crowded corridors of Spacedock. He was following the circular mall-like complex that ran the circumference of the inner core of the Spacedock hanger; know as The Docks, trying to find the slip at which his ship was docked. He had enjoyed his last 4 days in Toronto far more than the first. It was too bad Fifebee had to start his vacation off on such a sour note. He had even had time to swing past his parent's place for a tear-filled goodbye.  
Stafford frowned as he completed his second circuit of the corridor. Looking out the huge observation windows into the hanger, he tried again to spot the aged, mismatched hull of his ship. Finally, he grew frustrated.  
"Computer," he commanded, "where is the U.S. docked?"  
"The U.S. , NCC-135060, is docked at slip 4-D."  
Stafford looked at the sign to the nearest slip. 4-D. But the ship docked there sure as hell wasn't the Silverado.  
"Computer, double check that info, cuz that ain't my ship!"  
"The vessel docked at slip 4-D is the U.S. ," the computer replied.  
Stafford squinted at the ship's registry. NCC-135060. His jaw dropped. In the chaos of his vacation, he had completely forgotten about the work being done on his ship. The hull gleamed, every imperfection removed. The various hull plates glinted in a dozen different shades, forming the hallmark 'Aztec' pattern that gave Starfleet ships the appearance of being made of thousands of sheets of exotic metal. The Starfleet reds had been stenciled perfectly on the hull. An elderly couple was walking by. The woman held a monocle to her eye and examined the Silverado.  
"Much more professional than that dreadful thing that came in last week," she said, nose uplifted.  
"Quite," replied her husband.

Stafford arrived on the bridge and sat comfortably in his chair. Yanick, T'Parief, Fifebee, Noonan and Jall were all manning their stations. Stafford started scrolling through the ship status report Noonan had prepared for him. Cargo was loaded. Crew was present and accounted for. Families had boarded, including the ugh children. He looked over at Fifebee, who was absorbed in her panel. He felt a brief twinge of guilt, which he quickly repressed. SHE had been the spoilsport, ruining what he had planned as a relaxing vacation.  
Fifebee was indeed tapping diligently at her panel, but was also fully aware of Stafford's scrutiny. Undoubtedly he was still upset with her for her behavior on Earth. She felt a bit guilty; it had been Stafford who had stood up to her creator, Dr. Zimmerman, when he tried to drag her back to the laboratory. He had told her then that she needed to develop her own, unique personality. Well she was! And if that personality involved not liking nature, that was her business! Stafford should be happy for her for making such a self-discovery. Instead he was upset because her opinion didn't match his, the selfish prick! She returned his stare with cold eyes until he looked away.  
"So, um, where there any problems while I was away?" Stafford asked Jall.  
"You f**king bet there were! Loud noises, lack of sleep, insane cargo controllers-" Jall started.  
"Glad to hear all was well," Stafford said cutting him off.  
"Control tower has cleared us for departure," Fifebee reported.  
"Thank you Lieutenant," Stafford said with forced formality, "Jall, stuff like that is your job. Don't dump it on the science officer."  
"Whatever," muttered Jall.  
"Take us out Ensign Yanick," said Stafford, "and please, for the love of God, DON'T SCRATCH THE PAINT!"  
"Yes sir!" Yanick replied with a big grin.  
Silverado eased out of her slip and glided out the space doors.

Bob was stuck on night shift on the construction ship Caterpillar. Everybody else was off duty. He wandered through the cargo bay, taking care of his rounds. He frowned as he came across a gleaming black photon torpedo casing. The proximity alarm triggered.  
"Take this, you sadistic pigs!" came the voice of San Jall.  
The torpedo detonated, spewing unprocessed sewage throughout the Caterpillar's cargo bay.  
"Noooooo!" screamed Bob.

End.

Next time, on Star Traks: Silverado! Yes, this is it, finally. I promise! Stafford and the crew of the Silverado are off to explore deep space, with just a short pit stop along the way.


	7. 7 - Pitstops, Pitfalls & Piracy

Star Traks: Silverado

1.7 - Pitstops, Pitfalls and Piracy

Author's Note: This story takes place while the Explorer is still running around searching for the Bast, long before Bradly Dillon returns to Waystation.

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56234.4

"Finally! We're getting somewhere! After cruising at a steady speed away from Earth for a few days we have been ordered to report to Waystation to pick up our ship's counselor and to load a few last minute supplies from Dillon's Supply Depot.  
"We may not be officially out of the Federation yet, but Waystation is the furthest we've gone so far, with unexplored space right around the corner. About time too, I was getting really sick of hanging around Earth anyway."

"That," Stafford said, "is a really big station."  
"Spacedock is bigger," Ensign Yanick pointed out.  
"Yeah, but Spacedock is, well, Spacedock. It's always been the biggest beast around," Stafford replied, "a station this big, out on the frontier? There's got to be something nasty in the area."  
Waystation rotated slowly on the bridge viewscreen as the Silverado drew closer. Basically two huge saucers connected together, with a rotating operations module mounted on the top. The original components of Waystation had been two Ambassador-class saucer sections, identical to the Silverado's saucer. Waystation's saucers had been expanded and renovated extensively so that even though the basic shape remained, the resulting massive station dwarfed the Silverado.  
"We're receiving docking instructions," reported Commander Noonan, "upper saucer, docking arm 3"  
"Ensign Yanick, you know what to do," Stafford said.  
Silverado began to ease slowly towards the docking arm extending from the station. Stafford worked to control his breathing as his ship (with it's gleaming new paint job) eased closer to the station. Ensign Yanick was a great pilot, really. She just had a bad habit of becoming distracted.  
Please God Stafford thought to himself, don't let her notice the rotating restaurant.  
From the rear of the bridge, T'Parief gazed briefly at Yanick. She was as beautiful as ever. He had even thought she was interested in him after they spent the evening chatting at a party in Unbalanced Equations, but she had been spending a lot of time with Captain Stafford since then. Upon seeing this, T'Parief had backed off.  
Stafford almost jumped right out of his chair when Lieutenant Jall announced in a bored voice that they were being hailed.  
"On screen," Stafford ordered. As the image appeared on the screen, his mind ground to a halt.  
The woman was beautiful. Long red hair cascaded around a perfectly formed face with stunning eyes and perfect lips. A face that was drawing into a frown and repeating his name again. Oh. She was talking to him. He should answer.  
"Um, yes?"  
"I'm Captain Lisa Beck, in command of Waystation," she said, "where are you guys?"  
"Um, in the process of docking actually," Stafford said, with a glance in Ensign Yanick's direction.  
"Oh?" she frowned again, "Oh yeah, there you are. I'm sorry, we were expecting a much older ship."  
Stafford smiled dumbly, "We got a paint job!"  
"That's great," Beck said, "but we're about to receive a transmission from the Admiralty and I need you with me for that."  
"Why do you need me?" Stafford asked.  
"Damned if I know, " Beck replied, "but you and I are named specifically. Report to Ops ASAP please, Captain."  
"Yes ma'am!" Stafford said with a smile.  
"Beck out."  
Stafford started walking towards the turbolift.  
"Um, Captain," Jall said, "you do realize we haven't docked yet?"  
Stafford smiled, "Transporter Room 1!" he commanded as the lift doors close.  
"Oh, he's got it bad!" said Jall.

Beck sighed as the viewscreen in Ops shut down, returning to its view of space outside Waystation where numerous ships (including Silverado) eased around the station.  
"Another irritating starship captain?" asked Craig Porter from the science station.  
"I dunno about irritating," Beck said, "a little weird maybe, but not irritating. Yet."  
There was the chime of a transporter. Stafford materialized several feet off the deck and dropped like a stone.  
"Ow," he said as he picked himself up off the floor, "Stafford to Silverado, the transporter is STILL out of alignment!"  
Porter and Beck exchanged glances.  
"Captain Stafford," Beck said with a smile, trying to put her best foot forward, "welcome to Waystation. Are you OK?"  
"Yes, yes I am," said Stafford as he shook Beck's hand, "great to meet you. "  
"My office is this way," she said.  
Stafford followed her into the station commander's office, trying really hard not to check out her perfectly formed backside.  
"Wow," he said, "much nicer than my ready room."  
"Thanks," Beck said.  
"So any idea what these guys are calling us about?"  
"Not really."  
They sat in silence, staring at the screen, waiting for whoever wanted to talk to them to start the damned call already.  
"Can I get you something to drink?" Beck finally offered.  
"Sure," said Stafford, "just a cup of coffee please. Cream and sugar."  
Beck walked over to the replicator.  
"So is the Silverado your first command?"  
"Yes, yes it is," Stafford replied.  
"How are you liking it?"  
"Um, it's been interesting so far. Not at all what I expected,"  
"It never is, apparently," Beck replied with a smile, "you weren't pushed up from Inventory or Janitorial or something into a captaincy, were you?"  
"Um, no. I was first officer on the Exeter for several years. Why?"  
"No reason. Did you know that one of the saucers making up the station came from the old Exeter?"  
"Really? Before they build the Galaxy-class version?"  
"Yup."  
"Cool."  
At that moment the display screen came to life, displaying the goateed visage of Admiral Edward Tunney.  
"Captain Stafford, Captain Beck," he said, "I'm sorry to keep you both waiting, but I saw little point in having to give this briefing twice."  
"Understood, Admiral," Beck said, a model of professionalism.  
"Um, yeah. It's all good," piped in Stafford.  
"I'll cut straight to the point. Two more vessels, the U.S.S. Endurance and the U.S.S. Poodle have both found active spatial interphase generators in their cargo bays."  
"WHAT?" exclaimed Stafford, nearly dropping his coffee, "HOLY F**K!"  
"Indeed," said Tunney, "the crew of the Endurance located and deactivated their device before it could induce any comatose dream states. Thanks to your report I might add. Good work."  
Stafford nodded at this as he began to pace back and forth in front of Beck's desk.  
"The Poodle on the other hand was less fortunate. They were unconscious for almost a week before another ship stumbled over them. They were suffering from severe dehydration, but are recovering nicely."  
"Did they go through the same bulls**t we did?" Stafford asked.  
"No," replied Tunney, "there were no reports of any neural links, no power hungry tyrants and no battles. When the other ship found them, they were able to revive everybody with no problem."  
"Um, excuse me,' said Beck, raising her hand is if in school, "but would one of you mind explaining to me what the hell is going on?"  
"Captain Stafford can fill you in," Tunney said.  
Beck looked at Stafford.  
"Bad, bad machines that cause bad dreams and bad feelings," Stafford said absently as he continued to pace.  
"You're going to have to do a bit better than that!" Beck said, loosing her patience.  
"He can give you more details later," Tunney interrupted, "but he's essentially right. These devices trap anybody within their influence in a shared dream state. The special interphase also causes increased fear and paranoia in the crew.  
"OK, so what does this have to do with me?" Beck asked.  
"The last port of call for both the Endurance and the Poodle was Waystation."  
"What?"  
"It seems that whoever is spreading these things may be operating from your station, Captain."  
"We'll get to the bottom of this," Beck said confidently.  
"Um, yeah" added Stafford.  
"Good. Captain Beck, I realize you aren't under my flag. I will be routing your orders through appropriate channels. Basically, we want you to find out who is planting these things and stop them."  
"Understood."  
"Stafford, you and your crew will brief Waystation on these devices then continue on your mission. If whoever is behind this is operating in that sector of space, your current mission at least has you in the right area."  
"Gotcha."  
"Tunney out."  
Stafford collapsed into his seat.  
"This is bad!" he groaned.  
"It doesn't sound like these things are that bad," said Beck, "nobody was seriously hurt."  
"Whoo-boy Captain," Stafford said, "do I have a story for you!"  
"Which I have to sit though, apparently," said Beck.  
"Can we discuss this over dinner?" Stafford asked.  
"Fine. I pick the restaurant."  
"I need to brief my crew first."  
"Find. Meet me in Starfleet Square Mall in half an hour. I hope you have a strong stomach."

Stafford and his senior staff had gathered in the Silverado's conference room. Stafford had calmed considerably since hearing the initial news.  
"That's all we know so far," he said, having delivered Admiral Tunney's briefing already, "whoever planted that device on us has now pulled the same stunt on at least two other ships, and may be operating out of Waystation."  
"We will find and crush the cowardly…um," T'Parief searched for an appropriate curse, but couldn't find one, "cowards, right?" One of the disadvantages of being descended from 3 different war-loving spaces was that sometimes he just couldn't decide which swearword to use.  
"You will all be working with your counterparts on Waystation to bring them up to speed," Stafford said, "but this is their problem now."  
"Dumping our garbage into somebody else's back yard," Jall muttered.  
"You have a problem with that?"  
"Not really. Less work for us."  
"Fifebee, Noonan, T'Parief and Jall. You will report to Waystation to brief your counterparts on these devices and their capabilities. "  
"What about me?" asked Jeffery.  
"You were a slave-boy the entire time!" giggled Jall, "what are you going to teach them, the finer points of butt-kissing?"  
Jeffery glared at Jall.  
"Butt-kissing aside, Jall's right, God help us," Stafford said, "You four are the most familiar with the devices. The rest of us were just along for the ride."  
"What about Dr. Wowryk?" asked Fifebee. Wowryk had been very quite during this meeting.  
"I want round-the-clock security on her," Stafford ordered. T'Parief nodded.  
"Doc," Stafford said, "I know you don't remember much, but anything you know could be useful. I'd like you to meet with on Waystation and see what the two of you can figure out. She's a woman, so she should be understanding."  
"That is so sexist!" objected Wowryk.  
"HAH!" barked Jall, "The Queen of the Royal Mistresses is lecturing us on sexism!"  
"Score another for Jall," T'Parief muttered.  
"Enough!" snapped Stafford, "you all know what to do. Now I have to go have dinner with a gorgeous redhead. Later all!"  
"Redhead?" asked Jeffery as everybody filed out, "What redhead?"  
"I'll explain later!"

Lisa Beck was waiting in Starfleet Square Mall for Stafford to show up for his 'detailed explanation of the alien gizmos', which he seemed to be using as a cheap excuse for a date. She didn't mind, that much. He was reasonably attractive. A bit weird maybe, but not too bad. Besides, he would be light years away before she knew it, which would at least get him out of her hair if he became a nuisance.  
She could have sworn she heard heated argument moments before the turbolift doors opened and Silverado officers began pouring out, clown-car style. First was a very large reptilian officer with brownish-green scales and red eyes. Second was a tall, Mediterranean-looking man with a smirk on his face. Then another tall man with incredibly white skin, who seemed to flow out of the turbolift. A tall, slender auburn haired woman was next followed by Stafford. He pulled a large, hovering cylindrical object out of the turbolift and tapped at a panel. A shorter woman with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun appeared.  
"I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram. I think I should wait for the next…oh…I see," she frowned at Stafford, "I will ask that you have the courtesy to consult me before you deactivate me."  
"Sure, sorry about that. We were just in a hurry," he said to her, "nobody wants to worry about these things any more than we have to."  
Hmmmm… Beck thought to herself, I guess weird is the norm on that ship.  
Stafford walked up to her, "So where are we eating?"  
"I hope you like Andorian cuisine, Captain," Beck said.  
"Never had it, and call me Chris," he replied. There was a pause, "isn't this the part where you tell me to call you Lisa?"  
"No," she said with an impish grin, "I'll tell you when we get there."  
They arrived at the Ic'hasssssst V'kelsnet Andorian restaurant and were seated at a table towards the back.  
"You do realize," Stafford said, "that there's a dirt filled hole up there, right?"  
"That would be the Mishtak pit."  
"The who-what pit?"  
"Long story. Forget it."  
A waiter came with menus.  
"Do you trust me?" she asked Stafford.  
"Sure," he said with a wide grin.  
"Two of the 'Organ of the Day' specials," Beck ordered.  
"Which wine would you prefer?" asked the waiter. Beck looked at Stafford.  
"Oh, I'm not a big wine drinker," he said.  
"Just water."  
The waiter nodded and departed.  
"So," Stafford said, "what is a lovely girl like you doing in a place like this?"  
"What do you mean 'a place like this'?" Beck demanded, "I happen to like it here!"  
Ouch, wrong approach Stafford thought. Out loud: "Um, it's a great station. Hard to believe it started out as recycled ship parts."  
"From what I understand," Beck said, "you're not one to be talking about recycled ships."  
Ouch again! Stafford though, Out loud; "All the better for me to understand that with a little work we can turn what we have into sometime to be proud of."  
"Are you proud of your ship, Captain?"  
"Please, Chris," Stafford replied, "And yeah, I'm proud of it. I sure wasn't at first, but we're getting used to each other."  
Beck chuckled at this.  
"So, are you going to tell me about this alien device that has your crew in a panic, or do you plan on trying to charm me all evening?"  
"I had my moment of panic," Stafford said, "I'm getting over it."  
At that moment their dinner arrived. Stafford looked at the steaming pile on his plate.  
"Do I want to know?" he asked.  
"Probably not."  
Stafford shrugged and brought a small piece of meat up to his nose. He sniffed it carefully then ate it. Finding nothing seriously amiss, he continued to eat as he proceeded to tell her the story of how the alien device had driven tension levels on the Silverado to new heights before trapping the crew in a shared dream reality.  
"Hold on," said Beck, "you're telling me that your CMO became a power hungry, man hating monarch? And raised an army of the undead? And had the entire female crew complement on her side?  
"Yeah," said Stafford, "a bit hard to believe, I know."  
"Not that hard," replied Beck, thinking of Mistress Lisa-Love Beck, her counterpart in the Happy Universe's Federation of Fun.

Author's note: The Happy Universe and the Federation of Fun have been featured in Waystation, The Vexed Generation and the Original Traks. I strongly suggest you check the Nexus for Happy Universe stories. And now, on with the show…

The waiter approached, asking if the meals were satisfactory.  
"Actually-" Stafford started, before Beck clamped a hand over his mouth.  
"We're fine, thank you," she said. The waiter departed.  
"I was just going to ask for ketchup," Stafford said.  
"Rule number one of Andorian dining: Everything is always fine, unless you want to be served as tomorrows special."  
"Gotcha."  
"So how did you escape?"  
"We all died," Stafford said, perfectly straight-faced.  
Beck laughed out loud at this.  
"No really, how did you escape?"  
"Seriously," said Stafford, "we all died. We found out the only way to escape was to die. So we waged war against the Queen, overpowered her minions and slaughtered each other."  
"I can think of a few times I've wanted to do that," Beck joked, "But seriously, I can see why you people are so worried about this thing. I'm a bit surprised that you're talking about it so easily."  
"It's like talking about a bad dream," Stafford said, "it was pretty freaky at the time, but the experience has faded. We're much more worried about what these people could be up to now," he popped another piece of…whatever dinner was…into his mouth.  
"So," he said, " I hear Bradley Dillon operates out of here. What kind of guy is he?"  
"Don't get me started on Dillons during lunch," said Beck, "I don't want to lose my appetite. Why do you want to know?"  
"It's his fault I got a recycled ship."  
"Figures," said Beck, "he'll shaft anybody to save a few bucks."

As Stafford and Beck were sitting down for dinner, Sean Russell was sitting in his security office, waiting for the Silverado's security chief. Fine, so he was supposed to figure out where a bunch of cargo crates had come from. How hard could it be?  
Looking out the window of his office, Sean saw a pair of lovely legs go walking by, attached to an equally lovely body. Bolting out of his chair he ran out of his office and caught up with the lovely, auburn haired woman.  
"Hey there," he said with a big grin, "I'm Sean Russell, Chief of Security. Is there anything I can…do for you?" he paused suggestively.  
She gave him a cool look. "Dr. Wowryk. Tell me, Mr. Russell, is there a church on this station?"  
Sean frowned, "A what?"  
"A church. A place of worship, where one may pay tribute to our almighty Lord."  
"Um, no"  
"I see," she said with disdain, "In that case, where might I find ?"  
"She'll be over there in the infirmary, probably studying her slug."  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Symbiont! I mean her symbiont!"  
"I see. Thank you," she turned to go.  
"Um wait!" Sean said as he trotted along beside her, "Could I interest you in dinner while you're here? A drink? Maybe a little midnight lovin'?" he winked.  
Wowryk slapped him hard across the face.  
"PIG!" she snapped as she stalked off.  
"Wow," Sean muttered as he rubbed his cheek, "what a woman!"  
"You're lucky she's in a good mood," came a deep voice from behind him, "most men who suggest copulation with her end up with a black eye at least."  
Sean spun around, then jumped back in shock. His arms came up in a series of half-remembered (and probably ineffective) self-defense poses.  
"Who are you?" he shouted.  
"Lieutenant Commander T'Parief, U.S. ."  
Russell noticed that the massive alien was wearing a Starfleet uniform.  
"Oh," he said, "sorry."  
"I'm used to it."  
"So you're going to brief me on these alien interspaz things?"  
"Yes."  
"Cool. So tell me more about that gorgeous woman. Is she single?"  
"You don't learn well, do you?"

Meanwhile, nearby…

Captain K'Eleese sat in her command chair on her vessel, the Jubilant Death. Lounged was more accurate. The chair itself was high-backed, with large armrests and matching footstool. It was also the only chair on a Klingon ship that had a reclining back.  
Klingons were generally not big fans of comfort but K'Eleese wasn't your average Klingon. She was dressed in standard female Klingon body armor; metallic plates covered her torso, leaving her muscled arms bare. The steel plaits of her battle skirt clanked together as she moved. The armored breastplate was carefully molded to her body, and the cut displayed impressive cleavage. Her thick dark hair was pulled back from her forehead ridges, and flowed down her back in a long ponytail.  
Up until this point, you would think 'hmmm, average Klingon woman, trying to look tough and sexy all at once, but actually not looking much different from a Klingon guy. Other than the chest that is.' Well here is where the similarities end.  
The interior of her armor was padded with the fur of some unfortunate creature. On the outside pink daisies, tulips and even a happy-face sun had been carefully painted. A large red ribbon held her hair in its ponytail.  
The bridge of her ship wasn't much different from any other Klingon vessel, aside from the fluffy stuffed targ hanging from the ceiling over the helm console.  
K'Eleese turned to her first officer/mate/slave and smiled as she stretched in her chair.  
"So our operative was successful?" she asked.  
"Yes, M'Lady," he said, "explosives have been placed on Waystation's upper saucer. We can detonate them at your command."  
Almost quicker than the eye could see K'Eleese reached out and gripped her mate by the throat. Her fingerless gloves did nothing to conceal her deadly pink nails.  
"I ordered explosives on BOTH saucers!" she snapped, the smile never leaving her face.  
"A Federation starship docked before he could sabotage the lower saucer," gurgled the first officer, "he…would have…been…detected…"  
"WE ARE KLINGONS!" she bellowed, "WE DO NOT HIDE LIKE PATHETIC COWARDS!"  
One of the Klingons standing on the bridge turned to her and asked curiously, "Then why are we using a cloaking device?"  
K'Eleese's free hand snapped out, sending a small but deadly knife flying across the bridge. It passed between the Klingons legs right below his groin and hit the bulkhead with a 'thunk'. One inch higher and the unfortunate crewman would have found himself singing high soprano at the next opera.  
"Do not question me!" she said, smiling brightly. She turned to her mate/slave, "Will we still be able to carry out our plans?"  
He nodded feebly, on the edge of consciousness.  
"Good," she looked thoughtful, "how many times I have told you to stop calling me 'M'Lady?"  
He shrugged weakly.  
"TOO MANY!" she snapped. She activated the glove on her hand, sending a mild (but painful) electric shock through the first officer. He gave a gurgling scream before collapsing to the deck.  
"I expect you to be fully recovered before this evening," she said, " I will NOT be gentle in the bedroom tonight!"  
Settling back into her chair, K'Eleese contemplated the station on the screen. It held something she wanted. An incredible weapon…one that could tip the balance of power in her favor. K'Eleese may be on the chipper side for Klingon, but she had an incredibly nasty streak. She had decorated her armor as homage to the 'Happies', the deliriously happy yet incredibly dangerous (and powerful) inhabitants of the parallel Happy Universe that Starfleet had encountered several times over the past few years. Her original plan had been to get her hands on one of the so-called 'Happy Beams' that would transform normal people in Happies. That plan had gone belly-up, leaving her searching for a more old-fashioned Armageddon machine.  
"Signal our operative! Take us in!" she snarled cheerfully, "I wish to be finished with those Starfleet p'taks before 'Days of Honor' comes on!"

On Waystation, in the Starfleet Square Mall, a nondescript humanoid tapped out an acknowledgment on his comm-padd and boarded the turbolift, bound for Dillon Enterprises.

Beck and Stafford were just finishing dessert, some kind of Andorian ice cream. At least Stafford assumed it was Andorian, since ice cream on Earth wasn't usually blood red with serrated ice blades sticking out of it.  
"So," Stafford started to say, before he was cut off as Waystation began to shake.  
"Beck to Operations," Beck snapped, "what the hell was that!"  
"Explosion on the upper saucer!" came the panicked voice from Ops, "no, two explosions…three…four..."  
"Son of a bitch!" Beck swore. She bolted out of the restaurant, bound for Ops. Stafford followed.

Stafford, Beck, Russell, T'Parief, Porter and Fifebee all spilled out of the turbolifts into the Operations deck of Waystation. The station had stopped shuddering but alarms blared and red lighting flashed everywhere.  
"Report!" ordered Beck."  
"I'm checking!" yelled Russell. T'Parief was at his side in an instant, tapping at an auxiliary console.  
"There have been multiple explosions on the outer hull," T'Parief reported, "upper saucer, dorsal surface."  
Beck looked at Russell for confirmation. He nodded.  
"Damage?"  
"All weapons on the upper saucer have been disabled," reported Sean.  
"All of them?" Beck asked in disbelief.  
"All of them," T'Parief confirmed.  
"Who asked you?" Beck snapped, "Somebody get these people out of here!"  
"We can help!" Stafford objected.  
"The hell you can! This is MY station and MY crew! Get back to your ship, who know what's next?!"  
His mouth tightened but Stafford waved his people toward the turbolifts.  
"I'm staying," he said flatly.  
"Fine. Stay out of our way!"  
Morales had arrived by this time and was tapping frantically at his Docking Control console.  
"Several ships have been knocked off their moorings," he reported, "docking arms 3, 7 and 8 were stressed beyond tolerance."  
"Russell, what's going on with those weapons?" Beck asked. No reply. "Sean?"  
Russell was pointing at his console. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if trying to speak.  
"HAPPY KLINGONS!" he finally screamed.  
"Happies?" Porter cried in fear.  
"Happies?" Stafford asked, confused.  
"Never mind! On-screen!" Beck shouted.  
Directly above Waystation a Klingon cruiser had decloaked. There was a large, winking smiley-face painted over the front of the ship's command section.  
"Craig?" Beck asked.  
"I'm picking up 140 Klingon life signs…all normal."  
Beck gave a sigh of relief then glared at Russell, "Thanks for scaring the hell out of us! Klingons are our allies! Just because one of them has bad taste in ship décor doesn't mean they're from an evil alternate universe!"  
"I'm so confused right now," Stafford said.  
"Shut up!"  
"They're not responding to our hails," Morales reported.  
"Hey," Russell said, "I think they're trying to beam something off the station!"  
"What?"  
"Yeah, right out of Dillon Enterprises R & D."  
"Shields up!"  
"They're inside the shield perimeter!"  
"Auditmi to Ops!" came the rushed yet calm voice of Dillon Enterprise's Acting CEO.  
"Speak of the devil," muttered Beck.  
"Somebody has just run off with a very valuable and dangerous piece of technology! You must stop them!"  
"Get a tractor beam on that ship!" Beck ordered.  
"Tractor beams are offline on the upper saucer."  
Beck turned to Stafford.  
"Oh, so NOW you want my help?" he asked.  
"Just do it!"  
"Stafford to Silverado, lock tractor beams on that Klingon ship!"  
"Aye-aye Captain sir!" came the cheery voice of Ensign Yanick.  
A bright blue beam seized the Klingon ship briefly before sputtering out. The ship started gliding away from Waystation, careful to stay out of sight of any functional weapons.  
"Trish?" Stafford asked, "Tractor beam?"  
"Um, it's not working."  
"They're getting away!" called Sean.  
"Take out their engines!" hissed Beck.  
"Take out their engines!" Stafford called.  
"How do I do that?"  
"Use the phasers!" Stafford shouted.  
"I'm not a tactical officer! Like I know where the 'FIRE' button is!"  
"C'mon Trish, try!" Stafford pleaded, "Please?"  
"Hold on,"  
Stafford could hear buttons being pushed in the background.  
"Silverado has just vented her waste holding tanks all over the upper saucer," Porter reported.  
"Wrong button!" Stafford called out, exasperated.  
"Found it!" Yanick called triumphantly.  
A bright phaser beam shot out of the Silverado's phaser array and connected with…absolutely nothing.  
"Did I get them?" asked Yanick excitedly.  
"NO!" snarled Beck, "They've already cloaked! Beck took a deep breath, working to control herself.  
"And here I thought maybe THIS ship would have a halfway competent crew," she said coldly to Stafford as she brushed past him, "Porter, see if you can track them. Call up here, and somebody get the Wayward ready to go."

Stafford followed Beck into her office.  
"I don't appreciate the comments you were making about my crew," he said.  
"If your ship and crew were up to par, that ship might not have escaped!"  
"Yeah? Well at least we don't panic at the sight of a smiley face!"  
"If you had been through what we have you would have been scared s**tless too!"  
"Oh, so is that it?" Stafford asked, "We're just not experienced enough for you?"  
"You're not!"  
"And while we're pointing fingers, how did a Klingon ship get so close to your precious station anyway?"  
"It was cloaked!" Beck was getting really angry with this guy.  
"It was parked on top of your sensor array!" said Stafford with a bark of laughter.  
, a short, portly Zakdorn male in an expensive suit walked into Beck's office unannounced.  
"Am I interrupting something?" he asked mildly.  
"NO!" Beck and Stafford snapped.  
"Good, because we have important things to discuss," he said, "I want you to go after that ship and get our stolen property back, and I want it done yesterday!"  
"Well yes sir, whatever you say sir!" said Stafford, heavy on the sarcasm, "Who the hell are you?"  
"I am , acting CEO of Dillon Enterprises! Who are you?"  
"Captain Stafford, and goody for you! That doesn't give you the right to barge in here and start issuing orders!"  
"It most definably does not!" Beck affirmed, giving Stafford the 'DO YOU MIND?' look. Stafford backed down.  
"I don't think you understand the seriousness of this situation," Auditmi objected.  
"My station's been bombed during a serious investigation regarding a threat to the Federation," Beck said coldly, "I think I understand it well enough!"  
"No you don't!"  
Stafford noticed that there was a sheen of sweat across the man's features. Beck noticed it as well.  
"They why don't you enlighten me?" she asked, "What was stolen?"  
Auditmi hesitated then said, "A particle collider."  
"So what?" asked Stafford, throwing up his arms in disgust, "it's not like every high school in the galaxy doesn't have one!"  
"Do you mind?" this time Beck said it out loud. She sat at her desk, looking Auditmi straight in the eye, "What's so important about this one?" she asked.  
"Nothing big really," Auditmi said, shifting his weight.  
"Right," Beck said, "I know Dillon better than that."  
"It's just a particle collider, meant to determine the mass of a very special particle," he said, then very quietly; "it just has the potential side effect of collapsing any planet it's on into a single ultra-dense particle about the size of a walnut."  
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last part," Beck said, "it almost sounded like you said this device would crush a planet to something the size of a walnut, but I must have heard you wrong, because I know Dillon Enterprises would NEVER be experimenting with dangerous and probably illegal technologies on MY station!"  
"That effect is an unfortunate by-product of the device's operation!" objected Auditmi, "as soon as we discovered it, all research on the device and the…the particle in question was discontinued. The device was scheduled to be destroyed tomorrow."  
"Wonderful," said Stafford, "so we have a doomsday device in the hands of a Klingon?"  
"Yes,"  
"Well, we have a lot of light-years to cover, so we'll just be on our way," Stafford said, heading for the door, "Caio!"  
"Hold it!" snapped Auditmi,  
"Whaaat?" whined Stafford.  
"I expect that Starfleet will be doing it's utmost to destroy this device and all knowledge of it. Your vessel is the only starship currently docked here. You and Captain Beck must leave immediately!"  
"We don't take orders from you!" snapped Stafford. He turned to Beck, "Right?"  
"Right," she said, massaging her temples "but as much as I hate to admit it, he's right. The Wayward can't go up against a Klingon cruiser of that size."  
"If this device were to be used it could reflect very badly on Dillon Enterprises," Auditmi said forcefully, "it is my responsibility to maintain this business while is away! The device MUST be returned and the thieves brought to justice ASAP!"  
"All right," said Beck, "we'll go after your doomsday bomb!"  
"We will?" asked Stafford.  
"Yes," Beck sighed, "we will. Pirates and dangerous weapons are definitely on Starfleet's list of 'things to chase after'."  
"I'll leave you two to work out the details," said Auditmi, satisfied, "I expect you'll be moving with all due haste!" he walked out the door.  
"So," Stafford said with forced cheer, "how about we go finish our dessert?"

After a minimum of bickering it was decided that Beck and Russell would be joining Stafford on the Silverado and that Fifebee and Noonan would stay on Waystation to help track the spatial interphase devices. Jeffery transferred Fifebee's program to Waystation's holographic memory core. He warned her that her mobility would be limited; since Waystation didn't have the special holo-transceiver that Silverado had Fifebee's holo-relay had to be plugged directly into the core. She wouldn't be able to move it around with her.  
Porter had managed to get a partial ion trail on the Klingon ship, but only enough to tell what direction they were heading: away from Federation space and towards the colonies on the frontier.

Stafford, Beck, Russell and the Silverado's senior staff were on the Silverado's bridge. Beck had taken Noonan's vacant seat while Russell had been directed to the port auxiliary console, which had been set-up as a secondary Tactical station (much to T'Parief's displeasure.)  
"Good thing we finally got a copy of that "Console Functions for Dummies" book," Stafford had commented, "last time we tried switching these things around we were playing musical chairs all day!"  
"All right Yanick," Stafford said, "we're kind of in a hurry, so let's get underway."  
"Aye sir," Yanick said, her usual cheer dampened by her earlier performance.  
"Ops has cleared us," Jall said in a bored voice, "but they want us to clean up our mess when we get back."  
Mess was defiantly a good word to describe Waystation. The weapons arrays on the upper saucer had been reduced to rubble, with black scorch marks fanning out like starbursts. Repair teams were working hard, but there were hampered by the foul sewage Yanick had accidentally dumped when hunting for the phaser controls.  
"So this is the young lady who made such a mess on my station?" Beck asked with the barest hint of amusement.  
"Don't distract her!" Stafford whispered urgently.  
"I'm sorry Captain Beck," Yanick said, "I've never had to use weapons before!"  
"And it wasn't her fault the tractor beam quit," added T'Parief, eager to defend Yanick.  
"I'm a believer in second chances, Ensign," said Beck with a small smile.  
"Thank you, ma'am."  
"Waystation should have sent you the raider's course," Beck continued, "set pursuit course, full thrusters until we've cleared the station."  
"Do you mind?" Stafford asked with a quirky grin.  
"Oh, sorry. Force of habit."  
"What she said, Ensign."  
"Full thrusters, aye sirs."  
Beck was unfortunately about to learn that Stafford's warning against distracting Yanick should have been taken seriously. While talking to Beck, Yanick had completely forgotten to clear the ship's moorings. Silverado's thrusters coughed to life while the ship was still firmly attached to the station. The already strained docking arm moaned with stress then snapped clean off. Silverado lurched forward while Waystation wobbled like a drunk in a ballet show.  
"Ooops," Yanick said quietly.  
"I warned you," Stafford said to Beck, shaking his head.  
Beck simply sat there, mouth open in a silent gasp of shock.

K'Eleese was relaxing in her private quarters. She had already finished dealing with her mate. He was recovering from their 'love-making' in sickbay with multiple lacerations and 6 broken bones. K'Eleese was lying on a large, padded couch while various slaves saw to her appearance. One was working at each hand, finishing her nails to perfection. Another was working to give her a pedicure while yet another brushed her long hair.  
"Are you having fun, my sweet?" she asked the Klingon slave working on her feet.  
"Yes, M'Lady," he replied.  
"I told you never to call me that!" she snarled, giving him a harsh kick to the face."  
"Apologies, K'Eleese,"  
"Better. Now smile! You don't look like you're having fun, and I want all my minions to have fun!"  
He forced a smile, revealing jagged teeth. A smiling Klingon looks more frightening than happy.  
K'Eleese's personal assistant/scientist, a large, muscled Klingon named Skoteth, entered the room.  
"Ahh, my dear," she purred, "what news do you have on my new toy?"  
"We did retrieve the correct device. It matches your specifications perfectly."  
"Great! Be sure our agent is suitably compensated."  
"If I may ask…" he started.  
"You may. But ask nicely. There has been enough pain and screaming for one evening."  
Nicely? Skoteth once again regretting having to work for this woman. Klingons do not ask 'nicely'!  
"Could you please tell me why we stole a simple particle collider from a heavily armored Federation station rather than using the one we have in the science lab?"  
"Very good," she slapped him hard across the face anyway, " but that's for questioning me! This is a very special device and what it can do is a very closely kept secret. '  
"Then how-" 'do you know about it' Skoteth was going to ask, but the saw the warning in K'Eleese's eyes. The question died on his lips.  
She produced an isolinear data rod, a common device for transferring data.  
"On this," she said, "is a program that will configure the device. Duplicate the one we have, down to the last detail, then use this to program it. Once you have finished, have the helmsman find us an empty planet. I want to be sure I'm getting what I paid for!"  
"Yes, K'Eleese."

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56235.8  
"Wow. I've actually seen somebody turn boiled-lobster red before. I had thought it was just an expression. Anyway, Captain Beck wasn't very happy with us for damaging her station. It was only one docking arm…not that big a deal! I'm sure they can re-attach it if they get in on ice quickly enough."  
"We've been following the course given to us by Lieutenant Porter, but we haven't found any sign of any cloaked ships yet. We have found an ion trail that looks promising so we're just going to follow that for now. We've got to run into them sooner or later, right?"

Stafford was in his ready room. Beck was sitting on the couch, head back with a hand over her eyes. Stafford brought over a cup of tea. Shortly after departure, T'Parief and Russell had managed to home in on the raider's ion trail. The enemy had a huge head start but at least now they had a lead.  
"What is this?" Beck asked suspiciously.  
"Chamomile tea," Stafford said.  
"Chamomile?"  
"Yeah. It always relaxes me. You look like you need some relaxation"  
Beck took a cautious sip and to her surprise felt some of the tenseness ease.  
"At least we didn't slice your station in half," Stafford said, referring to the incident that had led to the construction of the new and improved Waystation.  
"You heard about that?" Beck asked.  
"Who didn't?"  
"Touché."  
WHOOSH!  
"What was that?' Beck asked, alarmed.  
"What was what?"  
"Did your toilet just flush?"  
"Huh? Oh. I guess it did," Stafford frowned, "I thought they had fixed that."  
"Right. So are mechanical problems a common thing on this ship?"  
"Ohhhh yeah."

As the Silverado continued to chase after the raiders, Russell turned to T'Parief.  
"So," he said, "any idea how long this is going to take?"  
"Several hours."  
"Oh. How come?"  
"Because they have a head start, and we cannot exceed warp 5 if we wish to follow the ion trail."  
"Oh," Russell tapped as his console, "hey, you guys have a pulse phaser!"  
"Yes," replied T'Parief.  
"Can I try it out?"  
"NO!"  
"Why not?"  
"Because I said so,"  
"No reason to get cranky."  
"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP!"  
T'Parief looked around for the source of the annoyed voice. He finally came to the realization that it was Trish Yanick. Yanick? Yanick NEVER shouted! Ever!  
"Take lunch," T'Parief said to Russell.  
"But I'm not-"  
"Go. Maybe Dr. Wowryk will be in Unbalanced Equations."  
"Where?"  
"THE LOUNGE!" T'Parief bared his teeth, "now GO!"  
Russell gave T'Parief a confused look then entered the turbolift.  
With Stafford, Beck, Noonan and Russell gone, T'Parief and Yanick were alone on the bridge. T'Parief walked up to the conn station and dropped to one knee to address Yanick.  
"What is wrong?" he asked.  
"Nothing." Yanick said.  
"Right."  
"I really f**ked up today!" Yanick wailed, "the tractor beam, then the phaser, then the docking…Captain Beck wasn't very happy with me!"  
"The tractor beam wasn't your fault, you're not a weapons officer and…" T'Parief thought for a second, "very well, I concede that the docking accident was your fault."  
A fresh round of tears burst from Yanick's eyes.  
"But that doesn't mean…I mean, there's no reason…I mean, ARRGGHH!" T'Parief bit off a shout of frustration, "Consoling women is NOT something I'm good at!"  
"At least you're trying," Trish said with a small smile, "everybody else was just pretending nothing happened. Except for when Captain Beck turned red and that vein on her forehead started twitching."  
"That woman has the heart of a warrior," T'Parief said with a touch of admiration, "but the Captain convinced her it was just an accident."  
"Yeah, but now he's going to transfer me…just like that last one did!"  
"I doubt it," T'Parief said sincerely, "When you have your mind on your work you are an excellent helmswoman. You just have to work on avoiding distractions."  
"Yeah, I guess."  
"Besides, I doubt the Captain would get rid of you as long as you two are seeing each other."  
"SEEING EACH OTHER?!"  
"Yeah. I thought the two of you were involved in human courtship rituals."  
"Courtship?" Yanick burst into laughter, "we're not dating! We're just friends!"  
"Oh. Really?"  
"Yes, you goof!" Yanick continued to giggle, "Dating the Captain! Do you really think I'd sleep my way to the top?"  
"Um, no," T'Parief was confused by the reference.  
Finally bringing her laughter under control, Yanick put a hand on T'Parief's shoulder.  
"Thanks for cheering me up, I really needed that.  
"My pleasure," T'Parief grinned. The hunt resumed!

Back on Waystation, Porter, Noonan and Fifebee were huddled around Porter's station in Ops. Fifebee had stashed her holo-relay in the engineering room of the upper saucer, where it could project here almost anywhere in that module. The commotion over the recently detached docking arm had faded as repair teams continued their work.  
Porter was feeling completely creeped out by Noonan. The guy was pale as a ghost, spoke in a strangely formal way and kept anticipating Porter.  
"Ok," Porter said, "I hope one of you knows something about this kind of investigation, because our security chief went off chasing pirates."  
"I'm sure we'll be able to figure out something," Noonan said smoothly, "let's start by looking at the docking schedule from the week before the Poodle and Endurance were here."  
"The docking schedules-" Porter started.  
"-are best accessed from Commander Morales' console," Noonan finished as he stepped in that direction. Porter shuddered.  
"May I?" Noonan asked Morales.  
"Um, sure," Morales said. He stepped back and allowed Noonan to access the panel. Fifebee and Porter joined him.  
"So," Morales said, "how long-"  
"-have I been on Silverado?" Noonan asked, "several weeks. It has been an interesting assignment."  
Porter had had enough. "How did you know he was going to ask that?" he demanded, "are you a Betazoid or something?"  
"No. Studying human behavior is a…hobby of mine, you could say," Noonan said, "my observations have helped me to anticipate certain behavior."  
"Keep talking like that," Fifebee said with an arched eyebrow, "and everybody's gonna think YOU are the hologram!"  
Noonan chuckled. His smooth face was momentarily broken in an array of fine lines. Porter took an unconscious step back. He had a feeling that Noonan's remark about 'human behavior' was a cover. He didn't know why, but something about Noonan just felt…wrong.  
Noonan brought up the listing of ships currently docked and compared it to the list of ships that had been docked on Waystation the week before the Endurance and the Poodle. He memorized both lists and turned to Fifebee and Porter.  
"Several of the ships currently docked were here before the starships," he said, "our next step should be to interrogate those captains. We shall start with non-Federation captains and go from there." Fifebee nodded her agreement and turned towards the turbolift.  
"Don't you want to take the list with you?" Morales asked.  
"No, thank you," Noonan said, "I have it memorized."  
"Oh. OK"  
"I'll be down in a minute," Porter said. Noonan and Fifebee left.  
"What the hell is wrong with him?" he hissed at Morales.  
"Wrong with who?" Morales asked, puzzled.  
"Wrong with Commander Noonan!"  
"There was something wrong with him?"  
"YES!" Porter snapped, "He's pale, and weird, and kept finishing our sentences! And we had over a hundred ships docking during that week! How can he remember which ones were here then and here now, or here then and not here now, or where they came from then and now, and, and…"  
"Um, I never noticed anything," Morales said, frowning, "maybe you're just imagining things."  
"I don't think so," Porter said. But he headed to the turbolift anyway.

K'Eleese had awakened the next morning snuggled in her large, luxuriously soft bed with her various slaves sleeping on the floor around her. She allowed them to bathe and clothe her then headed to the bridge. Settling in her chair she turned to Skoteth.  
"How is my new toy?" she asked in a singsong voice.  
"Ready to go," grunted her servant.  
"Oh come on," she said, "you can sound happier than that!"  
"READY TO GO!" he shouted with false enthusiasm.  
"Better," K'Eleese purred, "I so love it when my subordinates enjoy themselves."  
"Wench," Skoteth muttered.  
"What was that, sexy?" K'Eleese purred, leaning over.  
"Wow," Skoteth said, "a planet. Perfect for your test."  
"Oh goody!" K'Eleese said as she clapped her hands, "take the device down to the surface, activate it, then get up here as fast as those legs can carry you. Hmm…those are nice legs. You will report to my private chambers this evening."  
"Yes, K'Eleese," Skoteth said aloud. He suppressed a shiver of disgust. This was going to take all the courage he possessed!

Skoteth had beamed himself and the device down to the planet surface. Planet was generous; it was just a big rock. It didn't even have an atmosphere, which had necessitated an environmental suit for Skoteth. He'd come alone; he needed the private time to prepare for the hell that awaited him when he returned.  
Damn that woman anyway! Yes she was strong, powerful, vicious…everything a normal Klingon male would find attractive. But K'Eleese was…twisted. Her bizarre rules and requests, the insane symbols painted on the ship and her armor. What kind of self-respecting Klingon raider wore frilly under-things covered with pink hearts anyway? He didn't even know how she had acquired such power; only that to disobey would mean an agonizing death. He shuddered again. Considering what she had in mind for him in her 'private chambers', an agonizing death was starting to look pretty good! He kicked at a rock in frustration then howled as pain shot though his foot. The howl changed from a scream of pain into a release of pent up rage and fury that had been building since he had been 'recruited' by K'Eleese,  
Throat raw, he activated K'Eleese's mystery contraption and called for beam-out.

K'Eleese was still on the bridge when Skoteth returned. Her command chair had been moved to the side to make room for a massage table. She was lying on her stomach facing the screen as one of her many muscular slaves worked her back and shoulders.  
"Is the device set?" she asked.  
"Yes," he growled.  
"Awww," K'Eleese sighed, "you look so unhappy. Stressed. I'm sure Hognak here would be happy to massage you next."  
Skoteth briefly considered, then said, "No, thank you. Now will we see why this device was so important to you?"  
"Oh yes," K'Eleese said, "you will see. Scan the planet. What do you see?"  
"Energy levels in the device are rising," Skoteth growled, "total activation in one minute."  
"Attention brave crew of the Jubilant Death," K'Eleese called, "watch the planet closely and see what will give us control over the Empire!"  
The planet sat there for a few moments, rotating slowly. Then a single, tiny point of light flared briefly, then faded.  
"Is that IT?" demanded K'Eleese.  
A fine network of lines radiated out from the exact spot where the light had flared. They spread with incredible speed across the planet. For an instant a vast network of jagged lines illuminated the globe.  
Then the planet exploded outward, tiny chucks of rock flying in millions of directions. A vast, circular shock wave spread.  
As suddenly as it had appeared the shock wave reversed direction, shrinking. The debris from the planet was drawn back, slow at first, then faster and faster, as though every piece of the shattered planet was being pulled into a black hole. The entire mass collapsed to a single tiny point that flared briefly with a brilliant light.  
The planet was gone, leaving only a single, small chuck of matter.  
"YES!" K'Eleese screamed in delight, "GLORIUS!"  
Nothing is safe from her now… Skoteth realized with growing horror.

"I'm detecting a power surge!" snapped Ensign Burke over the comm.  
Stafford and Beck were out of the ready room in an instant.  
"Location?" ordered Beck.  
Burke looked at Stafford.  
"Where is it coming from?" Stafford asked.  
"23 mark 6 sir. Theta Locari system."  
"Set a course. Increase to maximum warp!" Stafford ordered.  
"Um, maximum warp?" Yanick asked from the helm.  
"Yes, Ensign," Beck said darkly, "is that a problem?"  
Giving Beck an annoyed look, Stafford addressed Yanick, "What's wrong?"  
"We've never tried going faster than warp 5," Yanick said.  
"Stafford to Jeffery,"  
"Aye?"  
"How fast can this thing go?"  
"On paper or in reality?"  
"Reality would be good."  
Jeffery thought for a moment, "I wouldn't go above warp 7 until we've had a chance to break in these new engines."  
"Ok. How fast can we go without exploding?"  
"About warp 7.2."  
"Ensign Yanick, take us to that disturbance. Warp 7."  
"Aye sir,"  
There was a noticeable vibration as the ship accelerated. Beck looked uneasily at Stafford.  
"Are you sure this thing is safe?" she asked.  
"Absolutely sure. Well, mostly sure. Pretty sure. So, how about that weather we're having?"

Noonan, Porter and Fifebee had been sitting in Russell's security office for hours, interrogating various freighter and small craft captains. Neither had tired, although Noonan was becoming very bored. Porter had been in and out, helping with the interrogations then leaving to 'pursue other leads', whatever that meant.  
"So, Captain Zisk," Fifebee said as she walked around the chair on which a stocky Talarian captain was seated, "you say you delivered 53 crates to Waystation on stardate 51680."  
"Yes, that is what I told you," he said, "can I go now?"  
"THERE WERE 54 CRATES!" Fifebee screamed, holographic spittle flying from her mouth. Porter jumped in surprise.  
"What? No!" objected the Talarian.  
"This security log clearly shows your men unloading 54 separate containers!" Fifebee snapped as she pulled up a log file, "I want to know what was in that last container!"  
"You should tell us," Noonan said gently, "before she gets really angry."  
The Talarian broke, "It was Lieutenant Russell's monthly pornography shipment!" he wailed, "He didn't want it to go through regular channels, so I agreed to slip it through the red tape in exchange for his 'Talarian Mud-Wresting' videos! I'm a bad, bad man!"  
"Get out of my sight!" Fifebee snarled. Porter escorted Zisk out the door.  
"I'll bring in the next one," Porter said warily.  
"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Lieutenant?" Noonan asked.  
"I'm fine," Fifebee said, calm and collected.  
"You've been playing the bad cop for some time now. I could take a turn."  
"No," Fifebee said, "the last time I let you interrogate somebody, you did your little hypnosis trick and had him talking in seconds. This is much more fun!"  
"We still haven't found a thing."  
"That's all right, I can keep yelling at these idiots all day."  
The office door opened and Yeoman Jones walked in.  
"Hi,"  
"Hi there," Fifebee said, "how may I help you?"  
Jones laughed, "That's usually my line. As liaison officer it's my job to be sure all visiting crews have everything they need."  
"You've been very accommodating," Noonan said with a smile, "but we don't need anything. Thank you."  
"Ok," she turned to Fifebee, "would you like to grab lunch later?"  
"I don't eat," Fifebee said, surprised, "but I could accompany you." After her disastrous vacation with Stafford, Fifebee was reluctant to socialize much with organics. But Jones seemed harmless.  
"Ok. I'll come get you in a couple hours." She left.  
"She seems very friendly," Fifebee commented.  
"Porter sent her in to see if she noticed anything 'creepy' about me," Noonan said as he read his padd.  
"How do you know that?"  
"Because she's talking to him right now. And he's been strangely suspicious of me."  
"Humans are strange creatures." Fifebee said thoughtfully.  
"They defiantly are."  
"So are you."  
"You have no idea!"

Jones and Fifebee were sitting in the food court of the Starfleet Square Mall. Jones had grabbed some kind of panzerotti from Sandwich or What while Fifebee sat across from her. She did not create a holographic meal, as she had done on occasion before.  
"I've never had lunch with a hologram before," Jones was saying, "well, I have, but it was on the holodeck. And he wasn't nearly as intelligent as you are."  
"Starfleet has taken great pains to ensure that only holograms who are meant to develop sentience ca in fact develop it," Fifebee said.  
"Yeah," Jones said, "good thing too. I mean, no offense, you're great! But I've heard of some pretty scary things happening when holograms go crazy."  
"So I've heard. I usually start growing ridges or points when one of the personalities in my database starts to assume control, however I wouldn't say that I'm going to go crazy."  
"Points and ridges, huh? Really? That must be weird,"  
"It is," Fifebee said.  
"Oh my," Jones said as her eyes widened.  
"What?" Fifebee asked, concerned.  
"Were any of the personalities guys?" Jones asked in a quiet voice.  
Fifebee looked at Jones for a moment, then burst out laughing.  
"OH MY GOD!" she hollered as she was overcome by frantic giggles, "'Were any of them boys'!" Fifebee fought hard to get her emotions under control.  
"It hasn't been a problem yet," she said when the giggles had subsided, "but that is DEFINATLY something I'll have to watch out for!"  
Jones took another bite of her panzerotti. Feeling strangely upbeat, Fifebee closed her eyes briefly. A bagel with cream cheese appeared in front of her. She hesitated, then began to eat daintily.  
"Neat trick," Jones said, "So how goes the investigation?"  
"I've yelled at 89 separate ship captains until they confessed to one crime or another. The problem is that none of them are guilty of the crime we're looking for!"  
"Maybe it's one of the ships that isn't here right now," Jones said helpfully.  
"Probably," Fifebee said. "It would help if we could narrow things down a bit."  
"How did the first doohickey get onto your ship?"  
"We don't know. Starfleet didn't seem too interested in investigating at the time. It's likely the same…s**t."  
"I'm sorry?" Jones was confused.  
"I must be the most unintelligent hologram ever created. Fifebee to Noonan."  
"Yes?"  
"Double check that list. Were any of those ships from the Waystation docking list anywhere near Earth while the Silverado was in box dock?"  
A brief pause. "Yes. The Pakled freighter Boink delivered a shipment of carpets to the Silverado then proceeded to Waystation to pick up a shipment of cotton underwear," Noonan paused again, "we're idiots for not checking sooner, aren't we?"  
"Yes. Yes we are."  
"Let's not tell the captain about this."  
"Deal."

"We're approaching the source of the disturbance," reported Yanick. She was doing her best to sound professional.  
"Slow to half impulse," Stafford ordered.  
Beck looked at the main display, "According to our last survey, there should be a planet here."  
"I guess our Klingon friends have figured out how that thing works then," Stafford said gravely.  
The ship shuddered and the stars started spiraling across the screen.  
"What the f**k?" yelled Stafford as he was thrown against Beck.  
"We're being pulled into a gravity field," reported Burke.  
"Yanick, get us out!"  
Yanick started tapping frantically at her panel. She could see that the ship was too deep in the gravity well to pull up. She nosed the ship straight down, directly at the source.  
Beck opened her mouth to object, then understood what Yanick was doing. Since the ship was too close to pull away from the object she was doing a slingshot or 'gravity-assist' to free the ship.  
The Silverado whipped around the source of the pull and soared away.  
"Good work Ensign," Stafford said, "Burke, what was that thing?"  
"According to my scans, a single super-dense particle, 3.2 centimeters in diameter."  
"How big is that?" Beck asked.  
"About the size of a walnut."  
Beck and Stafford exchanged glances.  
"Not good," Beck murmured.  
"Can you find any sign of the raider?" Stafford asked.  
"You mean like a large Klingon ship with a smiley face painted on the front flying straight at us?" Ensign Burke asked, scratching his head.  
"YES!" Stafford snapped, "Why didn't you say so sooner?"  
"Aren't the Klingons, like, our friends and stuff?" Burke asked.  
"Remind me to yell at you later!" Stafford turned to Beck, "I like this part…RAISE SHIELDS, RED ALERT!" he called out.  
The lights on the bridge dimmed and the red alert panels lit up. The lights started pulsating as an electric beat rang through the ship's comm system and a loud female voice began to sing.

"Red alert, red alert it's a catastrophe!  
But don't worry…don't panic!"

"Jall," Stafford shouted over the noise, "what the hell is that?"  
"I thought it sounded cooler than that stupid Klaxon!" Jall called back.  
"Um, Captain," Beck tried to cut in.  
"We have some small computer problems," Stafford apologized to Beck, then shouted at Jall, "Fix that damned thing!"  
"Ok, ok!" Jall started tapping at his panel. There was a burst of static.  
"Roses are red, oh, violets are blue,  
Honey is sweet but not as sweet as you!"  
BZZZT  
"I saw a red door and I want it painted black!"  
BZZT  
"Red, red wine!"  
"Jall, fix that f**king thing!" snapped Stafford.  
"Captain, maybe this isn't the time…" Beck tried to cut in again, pointing at the approaching Klingon ship.  
BZZT  
"She's my lady in red!"

"Why are they just sitting there?" demanded K'Eleese, "Most Federation captains would at least have the courtesy to say hello by now!"  
"Let's blow them to Gre'thor!" snarled her mate/slave.  
"No!" snapped K'Eleese, "I need somebody to be terrified by my evil plan, or else what the hell is the point?!" She thought for a moment, "One light shot, just to catch their attention."

On the Silverado bridge the situation had deteriorated. Beck had given up and now sat in Noonan's seat, her head resting on her hand while Jall continued to tap at his panel. The main screen had come to life and was showing an elderly man with a gray beard in some kind of control room;  
"I present you with the ballistic missile submarine Red October,"  
BZZT  
A skinny man in a striped shirt and green mask was chasing a slender blond woman;  
"Our love is like a red, red rose. And I am a little thorny!"  
T'Parief chuckled.  
Finally, the screen returned to its normal view and the alert siren sounded as usual.  
"There," Stafford said to Beck, "much better."  
"Yippee."  
The bridge shook as Klingon weapons struck the ship's shields.  
"I don't think they liked being ignored!" T'Parief called out, "Shields are holding."  
"Hail them!"  
"On screen.  
A fierce Klingon woman in cheerfully painted armor appeared on screen.  
"This is Captain Chris Stafford-"  
"This is Captain Lisa Beck-"  
The two captains looked at each other. Beck sat back down and gestured for Stafford to go ahead.  
"-Chris Stafford of the Federation Starship Silverado. Um, can we please have our doomsday bomb back?"  
Beck sighed. To her surprise the Klingon smiled at Stafford.  
"No little man, you may not! But thank you for asking so politely."  
"No problem."  
"I am K'Eleese, captain of the Jubilant Death. I've destroyed that pathetic planet to prove to you that I hold the ultimate weapon, and will use it to destroy your Federation a planet at a time, unless you agree to my demands!"  
"Fair enough. What are your demands?"  
"I demand to be named Empress of the Klingon Empire. I also demand 50 muscular human males to be transferred to my ship. I also want 2 stuffed pandas, the Martha Stewart home video library, a crate of those little paper umbrellas and a genuine Earth horsewhip.  
"Help me!" muttered one of the Klingons in the background.  
"She's put a lot of thought into this," Stafford muttered to Beck.  
"No kidding."  
"We can handle the horsewhip, the pandas and the umbrellas, "Stafford said, "but we don't control the Klingon Empire, and I doubt you could find 50 muscular men on this ship."  
"Then how about your security chief? He looks tasty/"  
Stafford turned to T'Parief.  
"What do ya say? Wanna spend the night with a lunatic?"  
"I will pass," T'Parief grumbled.  
"Sorry," Stafford said to K'Eleese.  
"Then we have nothing further to discuss!" she snapped, "If you want my planet crusher, you'll have to fight me for it!"  
"Ok. Talk to you later."  
"Have a good day, Captain," K'Eleese smiled and closed the connection.  
"She's nuts," Beck said.  
"Oh yeah."  
Silverado pitched as the Klingons opened fire.  
"Return fire!" ordered Beck.  
"What she said!" called out Stafford.  
T'Parief and Russell worked their panels, unleashing a barrage of phaser fire at the Klingon ship. Several shots connected.  
"Their shields are also holding," reported T'Parief.  
"Fire photon torpedoes!"  
Two red torpedoes shot from the Silverado and slammed into the Klingon ship. K'Eleese countered with two quantum torpedoes.  
Sparks flew across the bridge as the ship bucked.  
"Shields down to 75%!" T'Parief called as Russell fired off another phaser barrage.  
"Do you have any quantums?" Beck asked.  
"Yeah."  
"USE THEM!"  
Two bright blue torpedoes slammed into the Klingon ship, knocking it off course.  
"Good shot T'Parief!" Stafford called.  
"That was me!" called Russell.  
"Whoever! Nice shot!"  
"They're coming about!"  
The Klingon ship unleashed another barrage of quantum torpedoes at the Silverado.  
"Evasive maneuvers!" called Beck and Stafford.  
The ship shook like it would come apart. The science console exploded, sending Ensign Burke flying into Lieutenant Russell. Stafford was tossed against the bridge railing, then fell to the floor unconscious.  
"Bridge!" Jeffery called from Engineering, "We can NOT take much more of this! We've got power surges all across the board!"  
"Medical team to the bridge! Status of the Klingon ship?" ordered Beck.  
"Their shields are down to 45%. Ours are at 40. They've taken damage to their warp engines."  
"Give them everything we've got!" ordered Beck.  
Russell grinned, "Powering up the pulse cannon!"  
T'Parief whirled towards him, "NO!"  
Russell fired.

To an external viewer, the result was impressive. The pulse phaser cannon mounted on the underside of the Silverado's saucer came to life, firing a series of high-power phaser bolts, similar to an old Earth machine gun. The shots hit the Klingon ship dead on, blasting through its shields and turning its port nacelle into slag.  
Inside the ship the results were less pretty. Lights all over the ship dimmed as the cannon sucked up power. Safety cut-offs kicked in as power conduits overloaded. The result? Black out!

Beck sat in the dark on the bridge for several seconds before emergency lights kicked in.  
"What happened?" she asked.  
"Somebody," Jall said pointedly, "used a weapon we haven't figured out how to work yet!"  
"Oops," Russell said.  
"Way to go, numb-nuts!" Jeffery called up from Engineering, "Whoever pulled that little stunt just fried the main power conduit to the entire saucer section!"  
"Do you have power down there?" demanded Beck.  
"Oh yeah, and plenty of it! Ye just can't have anything other than emergency power for awhile."  
"Do your best to keep the shields up!"  
"Who put you in charge, lady?" Jeffery asked.  
"The railing that knocked your captain out cold!"  
"Oh, Ok."  
The ship shook as the Klingons returned fire.  
"Return fire!"  
"With what?" asked Russell.  
"I'm using the phasers on the engineering section," T'Parief called out.

The bridge of the Jubilant Death was in rough shape. Shields had been partially restored, but consoles sparked, the lights were dim and several crewmembers were unconscious. The ships warp drive was also hopelessly fried. Skoteth had dared to hope that the humans would beat his demented leader when they took out the ship's warp drive, but his sensors showed that over half of the Starfleet ship was down to emergency power.  
Skoteth had turned to K'Eleese's ship as a last resort, as had every member of her crew. Although he was in disgrace, his own sense of honor told him that K'Eleese was a crazy bitch. The humans were their allies now! And why steal a device to blow up planets? Blowing up planets was retarded. You wanted to conquer planets and use their resources.  
In any event, Skoteth was starting to feel that he would have to take action.  
"You incompetent fools!" screamed K'Eleese, "We should be able to destroy that piece of junk easily!"  
"I thought you wanted them to carry our demands back to Starfleet?" asked her curious crewman.  
This time the knife struck him in the chest.  
"Fool!" K'Eleese spat on the corpse.  
The ship shook again.  
"Return fire!"  
"Their shields are down to 17%," reported the weapons master, "but ours have been restored to 18%!"  
"That ship should not have a gun that big!" snarled K'Eleese, "Skoteth, prepare the other planet crusher! We're going to launch it at them and crush them like bugs!"  
"As you command," Skoteth left the bridge.  
Like hell! he thought to himself.

Silverado shook again.  
Yanick was pulling every evasive maneuver in the book (and a few Beck had never seen) but the Klingons continued to pound on the Silverado. Thanks to Yanick's flying though, most of the hits were on the sections of the ship where shields were stronger.  
"Good flying Yanick," Beck called out, "Russell, T'Parief, what's the story?"  
"We're too evening matched," T'Parief said, "At this rate, we're just going to destroy each other!"  
"Not good enough!"  
"I'm getting a message from the Klingon ship," reported Jall, "text only."  
"What does it say?"  
"'Silverado'," Jall read, "'the bitch in charge of this ship is insane. I'll disable weapons if you give me safe passage back to Klingon space. What the hell…while we're at it, how about…' oh! Wow, um, that's it. No more."  
"It's a trick," said T'Parief, "no Klingon would betray his crew like that!"  
"All he wants is a trip to Qu'nos?" Russell shot back, "I'd take that chance."  
"I'm with Russell on this one," Beck said, "Jall, tell him we accept."  
"Sure thing, gorgeous!"

After receiving a strange (but affirmative) reply from the Starfleet ship, Skoteth snuck out of his laboratory and into an access corridor. He disengaged the flow regulators on the plasma conduits powering the weapon systems, then ran like hell.

"Their shields are down!" reported the weapons officer triumphantly.  
"Excellent!" K'Eleese gave a fierce grin, "Fire!"  
A phaser blast shot out from the Klingon ship, blasting a hole in the Silverado's saucer.  
"Yes!"  
There was a sudden shower of sparks as the Klingon ship shuddered.  
"What was that?"  
"Our weapons are offline! Conduits have ruptured on deck 8!"  
"Fix them!" snarled K'Eleese.  
"I can't!"  
"FOOL!"

The Silverado's bridge tipped to one side as the Klingon phaser blast hit the saucer.  
"Hull breach on Deck 8!" Jall cried, "Emergency forcefields holding!"  
Nurse Kerry bolted out of the turbolift and hunched next to Stafford with a medkit.  
"He'll be fine…once he wakes up." She moved on to where Burke was sprawled on the floor, "Him too."  
"I'm reading overloads on the Klingon ship," reported Burke's replacement, "their weapons are offline."  
"Disable them," Beck ordered as she settled back in Stafford's chair.

"Klingon vessel, this is Silverado. Surrender and prepare to be boarded," spoke an accented male voice over the Jubilant Death's comm system, "and oh yeah: nya-nya! We win!"  
T'Parief, Dar'ugal and several other security officers beamed onto the disabled ship's bridge. K'Eleese snarled at them.  
"I'll take every one of you with me if I have to! You're not taking me alive!"  
"Fine!" grunted T'Parief. He took a step towards her.  
"Wait!" called out a deep voice. Skoteth emerged onto the bridge, "she's mine!"  
He walked up to his former captain and slugged her hard across the jaw. K'Eleese fell to the floor.  
"That is for making me play horsy last week!" he snarled.  
T'Parief stood over K'Eleese's fallen form. Took in the big red bow in her hair, the bright shapes painted on her armor and the brightly painted fingernails. He also noticed cuts, bruises and scars on most of the unconscious Klingons. He turned to the newcomer.  
"I take it you are the one who sabotaged the ship?"  
"I am."  
"I'm beginning to understand why."

Stafford regained consciousness on his ready room couch. Holding a hand to his head he stumbled out onto the bridge.  
It was a mess. Only emergency lights were on. Several consoles were shattered and black scorch marks covered several sections of wall. The ship's schematic on the back wall had several red indicators on it. Jall, Russell and Yanick were working on repairs.  
"What happened?" he asked. Russell spoke up.  
"Captain Beck defeated the Klingons. One of their officers decided their captain was crazy and sabotaged their ship. T'Parief took a boarding party over and is transferring the prisoners to the brig as we speak.  
"Nice. Any battle highlights I should hear about?"  
"Russell tested out our new pulse phaser," Jall piped up.  
"Oh yeah? How did that go?"  
"He fried the power conduits. The saucer is on emergency power."  
Stafford glared weakly, "Nice job, dumb-ass! Stafford to Beck. What's up?"  
"We've finished transferring the prisoners," Beck reported, "once emergency repairs are complete, we can head back to Waystation. We found and destroyed the collider."  
"Sweet! I hear we had a little helper over there?"  
"Yeah. He says that K'Eleese never told the crew what the collider was for until she used it, and nobody but her knows how to alter it to crush planets. is giving her a mind-wipe as we speak."  
"Sounds like you handled things really well."  
"That's the advantage of years of experience!" Stafford could hear the smile in Beck's face as she said this.  
"I bet. I'll be right down to meet our guest."  
"Oh! Oh! I wanna come!" Jall said.  
"Why?"  
"Um, I've never met a Klingon before?"  
"Whatever. Fine."

Stafford and Jall met Beck and Skoteth in the transporter room as the last of K'Eleese's crew were beaming over.  
"She was insane," Skoteth was saying, "she was ruthless, fearsome and merciless, like any good Klingon woman should be. But the flowers on her armor and the cheerfulness were just too much. Most of the crew did not want to work for her, but had little choice. You could not imagine the humiliating tortures we were subjected to in her bedchambers."  
"I see," Beck said, not looking particularly interested, "Skoteth, this is Captain Stafford and Lieutenant Jall."  
"Nice to meet you," Stafford said, "I guess we owe you a lot.  
"Think nothing of it," Skoteth turned to Jall.  
"Hey," Jall said, "I wrote the message,"  
"A pleasure to meet you," Skoteth wound up and punched Jall across the face. It was a pretty light punch, but it still spun Jall's head about and sent him stumbling into the bulkhead.  
"Nice shot!" Stafford exclaimed.  
Jall bounced off the wall and delivered a swift uppercut to Skoteth's jaw. Skoteth reeled back, then smiled.  
"Excellent," Skoteth said with a grin. He turned to Stafford, "It has been a long day. You have quarters for me?  
"Uh, sure," Stafford said, "Jall will see to it. Just try to avoid beating up any more of my officers."  
"Of course."  
Skoteth and Jall walked away. Stafford turned to Beck.  
"What the hell was that about?"  
Beck thought for a moment.  
"Has Jall ever exhibited any…strange behavior?" she asked.  
"Like dancing around his quarters in blue spandex and giving fashion advise to my helmswoman?"  
"Pretty much," Beck took Stafford by the arm and led him in the opposite direction, "let's just say you REALLY don't want to know and leave it at that, shall we?"

Captain's Log, Supplemental.  
"I'm thrilled to announce that we have successfully completed both missions. The planet crusher has been destroyed and all record of its existence erased. Noonan, Fifebee and Porter have tracked the spatial interphase generators to a Pakled freighter, which Starfleet plans to investigate.  
"We've returned to Waystation to finish repairs before departing known space."

Captain's Personal Log,  
"This is the first time we've had to combine our efforts with another Starfleet crew. I think we did fairly well. Ok, fine. It was a disaster. My doctor beat up their chief of security. My helmsman ripped a docking arm off the station and splattered waste all over their hull. Their chief of security managed to short out main power for our entire saucer section in the middle of a battle. And there was more then a little friction. All in all, Captain Beck and I have decided to call it even."

Most of the senior staff of Waystation and Silverado were in Unbalanced Equations. The lounge manager, Steven Steiger, never needed an excuse for a party. Captain Beck and the Waystation officers had reluctantly agreed to attend.  
"And he actually said 'sure thing, gorgeous'!" Yanick was saying to Stafford.  
"No way!" Stafford exclaimed, "He said that to Captain Beck? How come she gets manners and obedience from him and all I get are sarcasm and a smirk?"  
"Would you rather have him calling you gorgeous?" Beck asked.  
"Definitely not! I'd settle for the good manners."  
"I wouldn't count on it," rumbled T'Parief.  
"Keptain Stafford!" came a loud, heavily accented voice. A tall, blond woman approached. Her hair was pulled from her plain face in a severe bun.  
"Yeah? What do you want?" Stafford asked.  
"I'm Dr. Eva Yvonnokoff. Your ship's counselor!"  
"Oh yeah, I completely forgot about you!"  
"Interesting," Eva pulled out a padd and started taking notes, "could zis be a sign of hostility? Hmmm?"  
"She's gonna fit right in!" muttered Beck.  
Yanick wandered over to where Jall was chatting with Morales  
"You've been really cheerful today," Yanick said to Jall. She turned to Morales, "He doesn't socialize much."  
"I see," Morales said.  
"What's up?" Yanick asked Jall.  
"I made a new friend!"  
"Oh, that's nice. Friends are good to have. Is it anybody I know?"  
"I doubt it."

A few tables down, Russell was continuing his pursuit of . She was seated in one of the armchairs near the windows, trying hard to ignore him.  
"So, how about that view?" he was saying, "oh, look!" he pointed at a window, "that's Ensign Borel's quarters. Are then any binoculars in here? She's got an amazing rack!"  
Wowryk sighed, then turned to glare at Russell.  
"Now listen very carefully, you disgusting little worm. I will not date you. I will not sleep with you. I don't want to have anything to do with you. You're a sickening pig of a man with no respect for women. I find most men unpleasant, but you are really sick!"  
"Don't like men, huh?" Russell said.  
"No. Especially not if it means you."  
"I see," Russell paused, "so can I watch the show the next time you and your girlfriend are doing it?"

was sitting with Lieutenant Porter next to the wall.  
"I never figured out what was wrong with that guy," Porter was saying.  
"Forget it," advised Nelson, "they're going to be gone soon anyway and you'll never have to put up with him again."  
Their conversation was interrupted by shouting.  
"I AM NOT A LESBIAN!" screamed, "YOU PERVERTED LITTLE ATHIEST BASTARD!"  
Russell narrowly dodged a beer mug aimed right for his head as he bolted out the door.  
"I like her," said Nelson.

Stafford led Beck to a table and handed her one of Steven's Klingon Martinis.  
"Thank for not getting my ship blown up," Stafford said.  
"No problem," Beck replied, taking a sip, "what's this thing floating in my drink? Klingon olive?"  
"Ummm…yeah. Exactly. So, can I call you sometime?"  
"I don't think so."  
"Oh."  
"Sorry Chris," Beck said, "dinner was fun. Until my station got bombed. Then we were working too closely together. It just wouldn't work. Besides, I'm not looking for a relationship right now."  
"Ok, ok," Stafford said, "one excuse would have been enough. You don't have to completely destroy me."  
"Nothing personal. I'm sure you understand."

"U.S.S. Silverado, requesting permission to depart."  
"You're cleared, Silverado," replied Commander Morales as he tapped at his docking control pad, "have a nice trip. Please try to avoid ripping the docking arm off this time."  
"Right. Silverado out."  
"Phew," sighed Beck, "I'm glad that's over."  
"They weren't so bad," Morales said, "There were no serious injuries and the damage to the station was repaired easily."  
"Yeah, but I'm still glad they're going to be gone for a long time."

Silverado detached smoothly from the station.  
"Ok Ensign," Stafford said, "I think that's enough excitement for awhile. Resume our course, warp 5."  
"Yes sir!" Yanick said, her usual cheer restored.  
Jall sat happily at his station.  
"Jall, report!" Stafford ordered.  
"Just working to improve the efficiency of our computer core."  
Stafford stared at him blankly. "What?"  
"I figured it I make some minor changes in the software I can cut down on the number of malfunctions we've been having."  
"So…you're doing something constructive…on your own…without being ordered, cajoled or threatened?"  
"Yup!"  
"T'Parief?"  
"Yes sir?"  
"Do me a favor: Run downstairs to Hell and check the thermometer."  
"It reads at freezing, sir."  
"Thought so. Carry on."

End

Next time, on Star Traks, Silverado: A freak malfunction leaves the ship dead in the water. Sound familiar?


	8. 8 - Contents Under Pressure

Star Traks: Silverado

1.8 Contents Under Pressure

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56256.8

"After completing our repairs at Waystation, we are again on course for unknown space. We haven't really seen much of anything yet, so we've been taking advantage of the relatively quiet time to work on some of the many problems with this ship."

Captain Chris Stafford paced as the operation continued.  
"Laser scalpel," demanded one man. Stafford quickly found the tool.  
"Clamp."  
"Tricorder."  
"Will the patient recover?" Stafford asked, worried.  
"Too soon to tell, Captain. We're going to do the best we can!"  
Chief Engineer Simon Jeffery and Ship's Plumber Rookes hunched over the toilet in Stafford's ready room.  
"Everything checks out on my end," reported Rookes.  
"Ah've found it!" announced Jeffery.  
"Finally!" said Stafford.  
"Ah guess Ah owe ye an apology, Rookes," Jeffery said, "it was the computer control. The computer was flushing the toilet all this time."  
"Computer," said Stafford, "what's up with that?"  
"What's up with what, honey?" replied the computer. The computer had somehow been programmed with the personality of Stafford's mother. He wasn't sure how that had happened, except that Jall was involved.  
"Why were you flushing my toilet?"  
"You know I'd never touch any of your stuff without asking, dear," replied the computer, "now, how about something to eat? I just downloaded a wonderful cheesecake recipe!"  
"Mmmm…that sounds good!" said Jeffery.  
"Fix my toilet first, dammit!"  
"Ok," there was a click, "all done!"  
"What did you do?"  
"I just disconnected it from the computer. No more flushing unless you flush it manually."  
"Oh. Great!" Stafford scratched his head, "Thanks Rookes, carry on."  
"Aye sir," Rookes left the ready room, bound for whatever plumbing adventure was next in store.  
"Ah'll be in Engineering,' said Jeffery as he turned to leave."  
"Simon, wait,"  
"Aye?"  
"Um…how as I supposed to flush this thing without the computer?"  
"Yer kidding, right?"  
"Um, no…"  
"Oh boy," Jeffery muttered, "advanced species my ass!"

T'Parief was seated at the bar in Unbalanced Equations, sipping on a Gorn Gutwrencher. Steven, the bartender, was a pretty good guy in T'Parief's opinion, so he kept the fact that the drink was mixed wrong to himself. Steven had probably changed the mix for the humans on the ship. If a human drank a real Gorn Gutwrencher, the unfortunate human would find his insides turning to liquid goo.  
Across the lounge, Ensign Yanick sat with Lieutenant Jall and Ensign Dar'ugal at one of the tables. T'Parief respected Ensign Dar'ugal. The 7 foot tall Barudan was an excellent security officer. On the other hand, he really didn't like Jall. Really. Everybody else on the ship disliked Jall to some degree, except for Yanick. Yanick didn't dislike anybody. Even if somebody did piss her off, she always forgave him or her a few days later. Which was part of why T'Parief found her so charming. Jall had been in a strangely good mood lately and had actually started socializing with the crew.  
"Are you going to sit here and stare all night?" Steven asked.  
"What's it to you?" rumbled T'Parief.  
"Well, I would say from the sigh and the way you've been moping at the bar that you're trying to work up the nerve to ask somebody on a date," Steven said, "and judging from the direction you're staring, it's either Yanick, Dar'ugal or Jall. Now I really doubt that Dar'ugal or Jall are really your type, which leaves Yanick. Go for it."  
"Is this the part where you work to build my ego so I can go over there and embarrass the hell out of myself?"  
"Yes," Steven said, "another drink?"  
"Please."

"He'll be over here sooner or later," Jall said to Yanick, "he can't just sit there all night!"  
Dar'ugal nodded his agreement and grinned reassuringly.  
"What's taking him so long/?' Yanick complained, "It's been over two weeks since we left Waystation! He's known for all that time that I'm NOT dating the captain, but he STILL hasn't asked me out! Maybe he's not even interested."  
"Oh," Jall said, "he's interested. He's been sneaking glances at you all night!"  
"So why doesn't he come talk to us?"  
"Because underneath that big, bold, brave façade, he's a big softy and he's terrified that you'll reject him."  
Yanick looked at him, "Y'know, if you put as much effort into your job as you did into analyzing and pestering T'Parief, the captain wouldn't be nearly as pissed off at you all the time!"  
"I know," Jall said, "but that wouldn't be any fun!"  
Yanick watched as T'Parief ordered yet another drink.  
"Oh, f**k this!" she snapped. She stood up and marched over to T'Parief.  
"Are you going to ask me out or not?" she demanded.  
T'Parief panicked, looking anywhere but at Yanick, "Ummm….yes?"  
"Well good!" Yanick waited, "Well?"  
"Oh! Hmmm," T'Parief wasn't sure what to ask her to do. Most of the ship's old recreational facilities had been gutted to make room for the holodecks, which were still offline. Not that T'Parief was mourning the loss of the basket-weaving lounge or the hopscotch pad. But for a date…dinner didn't feel right. That left….  
"Would you like to go to Cartoon Night with me tomorrow?'  
"Yes! My quarters, 1900h, sharp!" Yanick turned and walked back to her table.  
"I really wish I'd brought a camera!" chuckled Jall.

Stafford sat alone in his private dining room on Deck 3. The small room was set in the front of saucer, just below and ahead of the bridge. He'd never used it before, preferring to take his meals in Unbalanced Equations, the Mess Hall or his own quarters. Really, when you got down to it, what the hell was the point of a Captain's Private Dining Room anyway? If he wanted to eat by himself, he had a replicator in his quarters! Granted that if he ate up here he could have somebody serve him and clean up his mess, but that just made him feel…lazy. He had dismissed the steward when the young man had asked him for his drink order. He felt incredibly foolish making one of his crew serve him dinner. He stared out the window as the stars passed by. He really should convert this room into something worthwhile. Captain's Private Holovision Theater? Naw…he had a vidscreen in his quarters. Captain's Private Gym? Don't think so. Captain's Private Orion Slave-Girl Massage Parlour? Hah! Keep dreaming buddy!  
Stafford's train of thought paused as he heard a soft creaking sound. He listened carefully, but didn't hear it again.  
"Next time, I'm eating in the mess hall!" he muttered to himself.

The next morning Ensign Yanick bounced jubilantly into Noel Wowryk's office.  
"It's finally happened!" she said excitedly.  
"The second coming of Jesus?" Wowryk asked, excited.  
"No! T'Parief asked me out!"  
"Oh," disappointed, Wowryk looked back at her padd, "yippee."  
"Well, technically I had to ask him to ask me out, but he did ask me, so it's all good!"  
"Well, I'm happy for you," Wowryk said.  
Yanick stared, "Really? But you hate him!"  
Wowryk was shocked, "I don't hate him! I don't hate anybody! Hate is wrong. I don't like several people, but I don't hate them either. If T'Parief is going to date you and be a good, Christian boy about it, then by all means, have fun!"  
"I'm a little shocked," said Yanick, "I thought you hated men and thought that men were evil?"  
"Don't be ridiculous!"  
"So you don't hate men? Sorry. So you don't not like men?"  
"No. I don't like men. Most of them anyway. But God created man to be with woman. If people never dated and got married, there would be no children and the human race would die out."  
"I'm confused…I'm dating T'Parief, but you're not mad. Even though you read him the riot act at the party," Yanick said.  
"Oh come on, that was like a month ago!" Wowryk objected.  
"So what would make you mad?"  
"If you have sex with him," Wowryk shuddered delicately.  
"Oh. Ok. So are you going to Cartoon Night tonight?" Yanick asked.  
"I don't know. I'm not really into that kind of thing."  
"C'mon! It'll be fun! You can play chaperone if you want."  
"I don't want to be the third wheel."  
"So bring a date!" Yanick giggled.  
Wowryk thought for a moment, "Hmmm…great idea."  
"I know, it's…what?"  
"Wowryk to Jeffery,"  
"Aye Doctor, how can I help ye?"  
"You're taking me to Cartoon Night tonight," Wowryk stated.  
"Ah am?"  
"Yes. I need a date."  
"Oh, OK."  
"Wowryk out."  
Yanick stared at Wowryk.  
"You're going on a date?"  
"Yes."  
"With a man?"  
"Simon is too harmless to be a man,"  
"He's got the parts though, doesn't he?"  
"Ok," Wowryk sighed, "technically, he's a man. But I kinda like him. He's very obedient and well behaved. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."  
"Right," Yanick walked out, muttering to herself.  
"Simon, that woman is going to chew you up and spit you out!"

Down in Engineering, Jeffery was breaking into a sweat as he fell into the nearest chair. A date! With Noel! He'd been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out for weeks, and then BAM! Right out of the blue. What would he wear? What would he say? Would she make him wear the spiked dog collar again? Woah! Where did that come from? Oh yeah…the dream reality where he was forced to be Queen Wowryk's loyal slave-boy.  
"Sir? Are you OK?" It was one of Jeffery's Nicondii engineers, Frat Naketh. Frat was about 3 feet tall with orangish skin and 6 brothers and sisters. Together they made up the Nicondii sibling group that served as the Silverado's Alpha shift engineering team.  
"Ah just got a date with ," Jeffery said in a shocked voice.  
"Wow," said Frat, "I don't know whether to congratulate you or offer my sympathies!"  
"Ah think 'good luck' would be best," Jeffery said, still sweating.  
"Oh. Good luck, sir!"  
"Thanks,"

Pressure was building in the ship's water system. An automatic system came online, designed to divert excess pressure through a relief valve. Unfortunately, somebody had mixed up the connections between the relief valve and the ready room toilet. Even more unfortunate, that connection had been severed.  
Pressure continued to build.

T'Parief waited at the door of Trish's quarters. He had dressed in Gorn-style civilian clothing; loose fitting leather pants with a leather vest and a heavy silver chain around his neck. He rang the door chime. He had a set of artificial head spikes that he usually wore Mohawk-style when he went out, but he figured those would be a bit too much on ship. The door opened and the computer voice spoke up.  
"Trish is currently in the shower," the computer said, "but she wanted me to let you in if you arrived before she finished. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?"  
"No, thank you."  
"Ok. Well, make sure you have Trish home at a decent hour! Or at least make sure she calls if she's going to be out late."  
T'Parief looked around Trish's quarters. In one corner was a shelf with several pictures of the Yanick family. A huge painting of a herd of horses covered most of one wall. He could hear the sonic shower running.  
There was also a fish tank in one corner where several bright-colored fish were swimming. How thoughtful! Trish had known enough to set out some traditional Gorn appetizers! What a girl!

Yanick wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom. She quickly dressed. She had spent over an hour trying to decide on an outfit. At least she had done it BEFORE T'Parief came to pick her up! After applying her make-up, she entered the main room.  
T'Parief was standing by the fish tank, his head tilted back and a small orange fish wriggling between his fingers. He held the fish over his open mouth.  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" screamed Yanick.  
"Huh? Having a snack?" said T'Parief.  
"PUT HIM BACK!"  
T'Parief dropped the fish back in the tank. Trish knelt by the glass and counted. She turned to T'Parief.  
"How many did you eat?" she asked darkly.  
"5 or 6. I thought you left them out for me…"  
"LEFT THEM OUT?! YOU ATE MY PETS!"  
"Pets? You mean they weren't appetizers?"  
"No, there were not f**king appetizers! Why the hell would you think that?"  
"Tropical fish are a traditional snack food on the Gorn homeworld. I thought you were being thoughtful."  
"Well, these ones aren't for eating!"  
"I'm sorry."  
Yanick sniffed back tears.  
"I'm really, really sorry," T'Parief said, giving her a hug.  
Yanick sighed.  
"You're buying me new fish the next chance we get, and you're helping me hold a mass funeral for the ones you murdered! Then we'll be even."  
"Fair enough. Shall we go?"  
"Fine."

Meanwhile, Simon was having a very different experience. Wowryk had taken one look at Jeffery's cloths and dragged him right back to his own quarters to change.  
"What were you thinking?" Wowryk asked as she went through Simon's closet, "You don't wear formal wear to watch cartoons!"  
Jeffery sat on the bed in a slick black tuxedo.  
"Ah was 'dressing to impress'," he mumbled, "like Dianna Troi's new book said to!"  
"Ok," Wowryk said, "Rule Number One: don't read that junk, it took her over 10 years to establish a stable relationship!"  
"Yes ma'am,"  
"Here," Wowryk held out a casual shirt and a pair of pants, "get changed. I'll wait outside."

T'Parief and Yanick arrived at Unbalanced Equations shortly after Wowryk and Jeffery. Several crewmembers had already filed in and were grabbing munchies from the snack bar Steven had set up. Jeffery already had a bowl of popcorn and a glass of root beer for himself and carrot sticks with iced tea for Wowryk. Jeffery did a double take when T'Parief walked by.  
"Good lord man!" he said, "did ye go and join a biker gang?"  
"A what?" asked T'Parief.  
"Never mind,"  
While Yanick and Wowryk compared outfits, T'Parief hunted through the snack bar until he found a bowl of pickled zlargitz hearts and a mug of blood wine. Steven had been very diligent in providing a variety of non-Terran cuisines after T'Parief had firmly (and loudly) complained that his Munchie Menu didn't include any Andorian or Klingon foods.  
"Ladies, gentlemen, beings of all genders and, of course, Lieutenant Jall!" Steven announced. There was a ripple of laughter from the group along with a raised finger from Jall. "If you would take your seats we're ready to start!"  
Tables and chairs had been cleared from one end of the lounge so the holoprojector could project a 'screen'.  
"For your enjoyment, we're going to start of the first U.S.S. Silverado Cartoon Night with an old classic from the mid-20th century! I give you Bugs Bunny in 'Rabbit Seasoning' from Warner Brothers Studios!"  
T'Parief watched as a black cartoon duck nailed 'Rabbit Season' signs on trees, while announcing that it was really duck season.  
"I don't understand," T'Parief whispered to Yanick.  
"The duck is trying to trick the hunters into going after the rabbit," Yanick whispered back.  
"The duck is a coward. Where is the rabbit?"  
"He'll be on in a minute,"  
T'Parief watched as a rather dopey looking hunter came on screen and found the rabbit. An argument ensued between the duck and the rabbit, resulting in the duck getting shot by the hunter.  
Blood wine sprayed from T'Parief's nose as he laughed hysterically.  
"The cowardly duck got shot! Yes!"  
"SHHH!" whispered Wowryk.

Rabbit: Do you want to shoot me now, or wait 'til you get home?  
Duck: Shoot him now! Shoot him now!  
Rabbit: You stay out of this! He doesn't have to shoot you now!"  
Duck: Ah-ha! Pronoun trouble! It's not 'he doesn't have to shoot YOU now', it's 'he doesn't have to shoot ME now!' Well I say he does have to shoot me now! SO SHOOT ME NOW!  
BANG!  
(Dialogue copyright: Warner Brothers Studios)

T'Parief howled with laughter again as the duck's bill spun around his head.  
"Hey keep it down up there!" somebody shouted from the back.  
"Yeah, we're trying to hear the damned movie!" came another voice.  
Abashed, T'Parief quieted down.

"Wow," Stafford whispered to Noonan, "I had no idea T'Parief liked cartoons that much. Popcorn?"  
"First time for everything," Noonan whispered back, "and no, thank you."  
In the row ahead, a pair of 8-year-old kids had started chucking popcorn at each other, giggling loudly. Stafford glared in annoyance.  
"Pipe down you two!" he snapped.  
"Screw you!" snapped one of the kids, "you're not the boss of me!"  
"I'm captain of the ship, now sit quietly before I have you tossed out an airlock!"  
"Shhh!" Fifebee hissed, "I want to see the duck get shot again!" Noonan was sitting between Stafford and Fifebee. The two were still behaving coldly to each other after the time Stafford had tried (and failed) to introduce Fifebee to some Earth culture.  
"I had no idea you found this so interesting," Noonan said.  
"I find it fascinating. From a psychological point of view," Fifebee said, "Why is the duck trying to trick the hunter into shooting the rabbit? Why is the rabbit now wearing a dress? How is it possible for the duck to be shot repeatedly with no permanent injury?"  
"God help us," muttered Stafford, "she's psycho-analyzing Bugs Bunny!"  
"I vill thank you to leave zee psychological analysis to me!" whispered Eva Yvonnokoff, the ship's counselor, from behind Noonan.  
"I will perform whatever type of analysis I want!" Fifebee said coldly.  
"Vat does a machine know about human psychology? Clearly zee duck is wracked by feelings of self-loathing and eez purposefully allowing zee hunter to shoot him as an outlet for zeese emotions."  
"I am no mere machine, you frigid b**ch!"  
"How DARE you!"  
"Catfight!" Noonan said with a chuckle.  
"Shut up, both of you!" Stafford hissed.

Jeffery sat nest to Wowryk, sweating bullets. At least he didn't have to say anything; it was a movie. He tried to laugh at the cartoon in all the right places, but he sounded fake even to himself. Should he look at her? Dare he touch her? Hesitantly he reached out to take her hand.  
"Move it or lose it," Wowryk said, her eyes never leaving the screen.  
Jeffery dropped his hand and squirmed in his seat.

After another 90 minutes of cartoons, Steven brought the lights back up and shut down the projector.  
"Thank you all for coming!" he said loudly, "If you would all be so good as to help move the chairs back," there was a general groan, "I'll restock the bar and get more snacks," the groan changed to a cheer.

A few minutes later, Unbalanced Equations had been converted from Movie Theater back to lounge. Somebody had ordered up some music, mid 23rd century multi-rock. Multi-rock music had a great beat, but with 7 different singers you really couldn't make out any of the words.  
Yanick and T'Parief sat at a table. Yanick brought over a strawberry daquerie for herself and another blood wine for T'Parief. T'Parief came back from the snack bar with a tray full of food. Stumbling slightly he sat down.  
"You've been drinking too much again!" Yanick giggled,  
"I have not!" T'Parief said, indignant, "I have drank the exact right amount!" he took a chug of his blood wine.  
"So if you already drank the exact right amount and you're drinking more now, then now you've drank to much," Yanick giggled again.  
T'Parief frowned as he tried to twist his sluggish mind around Yanick's logic. He shrugged and took another drink.  
Yanick snagged some strawberries and devanger cream off the tray. She figured T'Parief had brought those for her. The raw chicken livers on the next plate looked more his style.  
"So, are you having fun?" Yanick asked.  
"I am. I had no idea Earth had such great entertainment!"  
Yanick shrugged, "They're just cartoons. They're cute though!"  
"But the violence!" T'Parief said, "that coyote was practically butchered! Even the great works of Zegarnxnx the Volitile are hard pressed to compete against such acts! Of course, he used live actors rather than animations."  
Yanick pictured a live coyote being crushed by an Acme catapult and vowed to never watch Andorian or Gorn television.  
"I, uh, really enjoyed spending time with you," T'Parief said.  
Yanick smiled, "I'm having….an OK time," she admitted, "but can we talk about something that doesn't involve blood and guts?"  
"Oh!" T'Parief started, "of course. I'm sorry. Gorn women find blood and gore to be very romantic."  
"I'm not a Gorn!" Yanick pointed out, "I like nice things!"  
T'Parief took her hand, "Which is why I like you so much!"  
Yanick blushed. Ok, so it was a cheesy line. But it was still a complimentary cheesy line.

Stafford fell back against his table as a teenager stalked past, arms full of food. The young man pushed his way through the lounge and out the door.  
"Isn't there some kind of rule about kids in lounges?" he asked.  
"Steven has adopted a 'Family Friendly' policy since we started having children on the ship," Noonan said.  
"Who's bright idea was that?" grumbled Stafford.  
"Mine, actually,"  
"Really? Well it was a really STUPID idea!" Stafford grinned widely, "It's nice to know you're not perfect, I was really getting worried there for a minute."  
"Don't like children?"  
"No. I don't."

Jeffery and Wowryk sat a few tables down. Jeffery was nervous as hell. Not only was he on a date with the gorgeous Noel Wowryk…now he had to talk to her! He started sweating.  
They sat in silence for a few moments.  
"Well?" Wowryk asked.  
"Oh," Simon started, "um, funny cartoon. Yeah. It was cute. Ah mean, if ye liked it. Some of them were kinda violent, and Ah know ye don't like violence. Except when ye throw stuff at Chris. But that's none of my business! Unless ye want it to be. And Ah'm babbling now, aren't Ah?"  
Wowryk nodded, "You are. Why don't you get us some drinks and some food?"  
"Oh, sure, what do ye want? Fruit juice? Tonic water? Tea?"  
"V8."  
"Oh. We have a class V8 sensor probe in one of the cargo bays. Ah guess Ah can get it if ye want."  
"It's a drink! Just ask Steven. He'll know"  
"Yes ma'am!"  
Jeffery hit the snack bar first. He snagged a cheeseburger and some onion rings for his own plate. But what to get Wowryk? Was she vegetarian? He didn't know. He grabbed every non-meat item he could find and stacked it on her plate. He wandered over to the bar.  
"So how's the date going?" Steven asked,  
"Bad," Jeffery said.  
"Figured. She is a frigid one-"  
"No! She's…wonderful. Ah just can't figure out what to say!"  
"I see. What does the lady want to drink?"  
"V8."  
Steven started rummaging through his refrigerator.  
"Aren't ye going to ask what Ah want?" Jeffery asked.  
"No. I know what you need. Something really, really strong."  
"Aye. Ye hit it on the nail there."  
"Look, just relax," Steven said, "she agreed to go out with you, right?'  
"No. She ordered me to go out with her."  
"Even better! So just be you. Of course, knowing her, you might want a combination of being yourself and doing whatever she says. Oh, and get her to talk about herself. Women LOVE talking about themselves. The problem is getting them to shut up afterward."  
"Yer still single, aren't ye?" Jeffery stated.  
"Yeah? So?"  
"Never mind. Thanks for the advice,"  
"No problem."

Jeffery sat down and handed Wowryk her drink. She looked at the plate on the tray.  
"What is this, a salad bar?"  
"Ah didn't know if you were vegetarian or not."  
"Oh. I'm not. But it's nice of you to think of that," Wowryk smiled at Jeffery, "of course, it would have been even nicer if you had come back to ask me what I wanted!"  
Jeffery blushed, "Ah can get you something else if you like!"  
"Naw, forget it," Wowryk started nibbling at her plate.  
"So, how did you get posted to this ship?"  
"Ugh," Wowryk exclaimed, "what a nightmare! I finished medical school and did my little Academy course. Aced my tests. I was in the top 10% of my class!"  
"Sounds like ye did pretty good," Jeffery said, taking a sip of his drink and coughing. What was Steven trying to do, poison him?  
"So why Silverado? Don't ye get to pick your assignment with marks like that?"  
"Normally, yes. But my assignment officer was a man."  
"So? He wouldn't give you a s**t assignment just because of that, would he? That's against regulations!"  
"He was going to post me to the Repulse," Wowryk said, "but he gave me a pinch on the cheek, so I gave him a black eye. So here I am."  
"Pinch on the cheek? That doesn't sound so bad." Jeffery noticed that Yanick and T'Parief were holding hands.  
"It was the lower cheek," Wowryk said.  
"Oh," Jeffery searched for an empathetic statement, "he was a pig!"  
"Exactly!"  
"I would never touch you like that without asking," he said as he reached across the table and took her hands."  
"You just did!" Wowryk exclaimed.  
"Sorry!" Jeffery squeaked as he pulled his hands back.

Lieutenant Stern was assigned to man the tactical station during the night shift. Feeling the call of nature, he snuck off the bridge for a washroom break. He settled down and pulled up the AWN daily news snippets on his padd.  
He heard a slight creaking sound. He listened again. Nothing.

In the captain's ready room, the automated plumbing control program was trying desperately to flush the toilet. Since the toilet refused to flush, pressure continued to build up in the plumbing system, heading for a catastrophic failure…

In the lounge, Noonan because aware of a strong vibration. As it built bottles began skittering off the bar, several smashing to the floor.  
"Warning," announced the computer, "imminent hydro transport system failure."  
As the pressure in the system reached the breaking point, toilets exploded all over the Silverado as torrents of water were released from the overcharged plumbing system. Lieutenant Stern was pasted to the bathroom ceiling as the toilet beneath him detonated. (He was also the recipient of an enema he would not soon forget!)

Water surged though Deck 11 as the ship's main water processing facility ruptured. Water rushed through the empty corridors, shorting out several minor systems along the way. As it reached the rear of the saucer, the water began to pour through a jefferies tube hatch somebody had been careless enough to leave open, down through the ship's neck, all the way to the engineering section. Pooling briefly at the bottom of the shaft, it quickly rose until it reached the first open hatch it could find.  
The hatch for the Deflector Control room.  
For those of you who aren't Trek savvy, Navigational Deflectors are REALLY important. Primarily, they deflect interstellar dust, asteroids, space junk and anything else that could damage the hull of a ship. For a ship traveling at even a fraction of the speed of light, a pebble could hit like a bullet. The system could also be used to generate tachyon pulses, resonance bursts and pretty much any kind of energy beam the crew might need. Now imagine the power that takes. Then imagine mixing that kind of power with water. Let's put it this way: dropping a hair dryer in a bathtub would be a tiny spark in comparison.  
Huge amounts of power surged though the entire Deflector Control room, shorting out delicate circuitry and sturdy power conduits alike. Power surges ran across the Silverado's entire power grid before the computer initiated an emergency reactor shutdown. Emergency power kicked in, then failed.

The lights in Unbalanced Equations flickered, came up, then died all together. The ship lurched as the warp drive shut down, sending bottles and butts smashing onto the floor. Jeffery found himself buried under and Ensign Dar'ugal. Fifebee stumbled onto Captain Stafford while Noonan somehow managed to skirt out of the way and keep his balance. Exclamations and curses rang out in a variety of languages, but the basic sentiment was the same:  
"What the f**k?"

"Stafford to bridge!" Stafford called, "Ensign Pye, Lieutenant Stern, respond!" Nothing. He looked out the windows. The ship was spinning slowly through space and the warp nacelles were dark.  
"Jeffery, what's going on?"  
"Ah dunno!" Jeffery hiccupped, then giggled.  
"Are you hammered?"  
"Maaaybe…maybe not!" Jeffery giggled again.  
"Well SNAP OUT OF IT!"  
Jeffery shook his head, shrugging off the effects of the synthehol.  
There was a loud CRASH!  
"What was that?" somebody asked.  
"Mr.T'Parief just tripped over a table. He is presently unconscious," Noonan stated.  
"How can you tell that? It's pitch black in here!"  
"I have excellent night vision."  
"Well lucky you!"  
"Enough!" barked Stafford, "Ok, this is obviously an engineering problem. Let's just sit back for a bit and wait for whoever's on duty down there to get the lights back on."  
"Who is on duty right now anyway?" Jeffery asked.  
"You're the engineer," Wowryk snapped, "shouldn't you know?"  
"I'm sorry, ma'am, they all look alike to me!"  
"I suggest," Noonan said calmly," that you all find a spot and make yourselves comfortable. Before somebody else-"  
CRASH!  
"-becomes injured," Noonan finished.  
There were a few moments of relative silence as everybody settled down.  
"Is life support still running?" Wowryk asked.  
"Uh-oh," said Stafford, "I never thought about that. Fifebee?"  
No answer.  
"Crud," Jeffery said, "holographic systems are offline. She's down for the count."  
"Will she be OK?"  
"Probably. They put pretty good crash protection on her program."  
"Oh, good,"  
"Um, excuse me," piped up a voice, "but how about worrying about those of us that have to BREATHE!"  
"Right," Stafford said, "Simon?"  
There were several crashed as Jeffery worked his way to the air vent.  
"Nothing," he reported.  
"Crap," Stafford said, "now what?"  
"Can we panic now?" Yanick asked.  
"Ah need to get to Engineering," Jeffery said.  
"Good luck!"  
"I can get him to Main Engineering," Noonan said.  
"Look buddy," Stafford said, "I don't care how good your night vision is, there will be even less light in the corridors!"  
"If we can find an emergency station we can get some flashlights."  
"And what are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait until we run out of air?"  
"Do you have any other suggestions?"  
"Not really."

Jeffery held on to Noonan's belt as the first officer glided down the corridor. He couldn't see a damned thing.  
Noonan, on the other hand, was in his element. He felt completely at home in the dark. Granted, he couldn't see very well without a moon or stars to provide lighting, but he still felt better. Poets could talk all about the 'eternal night of space', but they didn't realize that nobody ever turned off the lights on a starship. At least not on purpose. But as he glided through the dark corridors, he felt strangely….comfortable.  
"Are we there yet?" Jeffery asked.  
"No."  
They walked for a few more minutes.  
"Are we there yet now?"  
"No."  
"When will we get there?"  
Noonan sighed.  
"Soon, I hope," Noonan said.  
"Well good, cuz if anybody sees us, it's gonna look like Ah'm grabbing yer ass!"  
"The lights are off. Nobody can see us."  
"Oh, yeah!"  
They located an emergency station. Noonan pulled out a flashlight. Jeffery tried tapping at a wall panel.  
"Completely dead!" Jeffery exclaimed, "not even emergency power!"  
"That's not supposed to happen, is it?" Noonan asked.  
"Never! There are so many fail-safes and backups that this should never happen!"  
They opened a jefferies tube and started to descend.  
"Do you hear running water?" Noonan asked.  
"Yeah, I do."  
Noonan had just passed Deck 10. He stepped down the ladder to Deck 11. The ladder itself was non-conductive, but as his foot made contact with the water running through the tube, he received an impressive shock.  
"AHHH!" Noonan screamed in pain as a massive jolt of electricity ran through his leg. He jumped up the ladder, flying past Jeffery and up two more decks in an instant. A bright spark flared through the darkness.  
"HOLY F**K!" Jeffery shouted.  
"Don't go any further!" Noonan shouted, "the water's electrified!" He directed the light to his damaged leg. The flesh was blistered and charred, but was already healing itself rapidly.  
"Are ye OK?"  
"Yes, I'm fine."  
"You're one luck son of a b**ch!"  
"That's debatable."  
"F**k," Jeffery thought for a moment, "if there is some kind of mega short circuit from the water that would explain why we have no emergency power. But there really shouldn't be a short like this! Everything is supposed to be sealed! And even if it did happen, the safety cutoffs should kick in, shutting down this deck while keeping the juice flowing everywhere else."  
"Obviously, they didn't. Where are the cutoffs? If we cut power manually, will that help?"  
"Aye. They're in Impulse Engineering, on Deck 14."  
"We'll have to take the turboshafts to get there," Noonan said, "since the jefferies tube is flooded,"  
"Ohhhh…" Jeffery whimpered.

Stafford, Yanick, Wowryk, T'Parief and the remainder of the crew in Unbalanced Equations sat huddled on the floor.  
"How long can we last without life-support?" Yanick asked, panicked.  
"In this room? About 30 minutes," Wowryk replied.  
"30 minutes?!"  
"But," Wowryk added, "if we open the doors and move people into the corridors we can extend that time considerably."  
"Let's do it," Stafford said.  
"How?" asked Yanick, "we can't see a thing!"  
"We'll just have to stumble along," Stafford said.  
"Be careful!" Steven piped in, "there's broken glass!"  
People started to carefully walk towards where they thought the doors were, feeling their way in the dark.  
"OW! I found the wall!"  
CLUNK! "Table,"  
"You OK?"  
"Peachy,"  
"GET YOUR HAND OFF MY ASS, GODLESS PERVERT!" SMACK!  
"Three guesses who that was,"  
"I'm sorry! I thought it was the wall padding!"  
"I found a bottle of…glug glug…Saurian Brandy, I think,"  
"Share!"  
"How can I share it, I don't know where you are!"  
"People, focus! Proceed calmly towards the exits…"  
"Focus on my ass, bitch!" shouted somebody.  
"Watch it!" came a hissed whisper, "that's the captain speaking."  
"He can't see me! Hey, Captain! You suck!"  
"Hey, yeah! Hey, Captain! You're momma's a nasty b**ch!"  
"Listen you c**kbiting f**tards!" snapped Stafford, "I can't see you, but I can recognize your voices! Simmonds! You're cleaning up after Ensign Dar'ugal for the next month! It's shedding season for the Baruda. And Griffin, you little a**wipe, T'Parief will be using YOU as the victim in his security training classes for the next YEAR! NOBODY INSULTS MY MOTHER!"  
"Captain, please, you're wasting valuable air! Calm down!"  
"I AM CALM!"  
"Keptain, perhaps ve can take ziz opportunity to get to ze root of your psychological discontent. Did you hate your mother?"  
"MY MOTHER IS A SAINT!"  
"Vell, if they don't get her personality out of the computer soon, I vill hate her!"  
"I am SOO going to pretend I didn't hear that!"  
"Hmmm…how very interesting…" There was the sound of Yvonnokoff tapping on her padd, "And your father, did you hate him, too?"  
Stafford took several deep breaths,  
"No. I do NOT hate my father!"  
"Zen your sister perhaps?"  
"I'm ignoring you now."  
"Hostile responses to family inquiries," Yvonnokoff muttered as she tapped at her padd.  
"CUT IT OUT!"

Jeffery and Noonan arrived in Impulse Engineering after a nerve-wracking trip through the turboshaft. A single night shift technician occupied a large manual switching panel. One of the breakers popped open. The tech pressed the breaker closed. There was a sizzle of sparks for a few seconds, then the breaker popped open. The tech immediately pressed it shut.  
"WHAT ARE YE DOING?" roared Jeffery.  
"D-uh, this button keeps popping open. I'm trying to keep it shut," the tech said.  
Click!  
BZZT!  
Click!  
BZZT!  
"Stop it ye idiot! There's a major short on Deck 11! You're bringing down the entire emergency power system!"  
"Oh. I guess that makes sense."  
This time the breaker remained open. A single emergency light came on. Jeffery took a closer look at the panel.  
"F**K!" swore Jeffery.  
"What?" Noonan asked.  
"This idiot has fried the emergency power auto-switching system!"  
"I see. How does that impact us?" Noonan asked.  
"I can get emergency power back, but I have to switch it manually."  
"And since you don't know what sections are damaged, if you restore power to a damaged or flooded section-"  
"-the whole grid goes down again. But ye must realize, we could have people in those sections."  
Noonan thought for a moment.  
"If they were in the water, they're probably already dead. Restoring power is essential. We can only hope everybody escaped. I shall report to the captain."

Crewman Shwaluk sat next to Nurse Kerry on the top bunk of the enlisted crewman's quarters. Water filled the lower half of the room.  
"Think it's safe to climb down?" he asked.  
"You wanna risk getting zapped?" she pointed to where Shwaluk's new pet hamster (recently acquired on their last visit to Earth) floated, blackened and charred.  
"Good point. Let's stay here."

Jeffery began restoring emergency power circuits.  
Click!  
Emergency life-support came to life.  
Click!  
Lights came on in the Impulse Engineering room.  
Click!  
Bridge emergency power was restored.  
Click!

Stafford and crew looked up as emergency lighting came up. The ventilators had already kicked in, prompting a sigh of relief all around.

Jeffery worked away.  
Click!  
Deck 4 emergency power.  
Click!  
BZZZT!  
"F**K!"

Yanick shivered as the lights cut out again.  
"I'm really not liking this," she said. Her voice trembled slightly.  
T'Parief put his arm around her. She leaned against him.  
"Not exactly a perfect first date," Yanick said.  
"I think it's progressing fairly well," T'Parief rumbled.  
"Oh?"  
"I wound up with a wonderful woman in my arms,"  
"Oh, come on!"  
"What?" T'Parief said, "I thought I was being charming!"  
"That was more cheesy than charming. But it's still sweet of you to try." Yanick reached up to give him a peck on the cheek.

sat on the floor. She could hear Yanick and T'Parief talking. At least they were behaving. Most heathens would be taking advantage of the dark to engage in evil, carnal acts. She felt a bit lonely. Jeffery was off fixing stuff. She hadn't realized how comforting it was to have somebody at her side, even if it was for a short date.  
"Are you feeling OK, Captain?" she asked.  
"Oh, fine. I should really get to the bridge though. The captain should not be sitting on his ass during a crisis!"  
"You might have some trouble in the dark."  
"Yeah, I'll wait until Noonan gets back."  
The lights came up, just as Noonan walked in.  
"Commander!" Stafford exclaimed, "what's going on?"  
"There has been severe flooding on Deck 11, which shorted out the emergency power system. is trying to manually route emergency power as we speak."  
The lights cut out.  
"We don't know the extent of the damage, or what caused this situation in the first place," Noonan went on, "we cannot contact Main Engineering or any other crewmen."  
"Get me to the bridge," Stafford ordered.  
The lights came back up.  
"There's really nothing we can do until power is restored."  
"I know, but if the other captains hear that I was hiding in the lounge during an emergency, I'll never live it down!"  
"Jeffery to Stafford,"  
"Stafford here,"  
"Ah have internal communications up. For now. Ah'll wait for you to make an announcement before Ah get back to work and risk knocking it out again."  
"Excellent! Stafford to all hands: the ship has suffered a catastrophic systems failure. is working to restore emergency power so we can undertake repairs. Please stay calm and remain where you are. Unless you're injured or dying. In which case, please comm within the next minute. She can administer medical care or Last Rites as appropriate."  
"Well, that's reassuring," muttered Simmons.  
"Watch it, you're already on my s**tlist!"  
Fifebee shimmered to life.  
"I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram. Did I miss something?" she said.  
The lights and the holographic officer cut out again.

"F**KING C**KBITING F**KTARDED PIECE OF OUTDATED S**T! I'M GOING TO THROW THIS WHOLE F**KING THING OUT THE F**KING WINDOW!"  
Jeffery was in a less than cheerful mood.  
Click!  
Emergency life support.  
Click!  
Emergency bridge power.  
Click!…Click!…Click!…Click!…Click!  
BZZZT!

Less than a thousand kilometers away, a small vessel dropped out of warp. It was a very fashionable shade of blue with deep grey highlights. Basically cylindrical, it had dozens of antennas and arrays sticking out the back end in several directions, giving it a broom-like appearance.  
On board were several muscular men wearing jet-black combat armor. They were watching a large viewscreen, where the image of a dark haired woman was displayed. Her eyes were a piercing green. Her skin was perfect. And any one of the men would die for her in an instant.  
"You will attack the Federation ship and knock them out of warp. You are to then board them and locate the subject. Expect resistance. Return the subject to Base 17. This is a high-priority assignment, so your lives are forfeit."  
"They have stopped on their own, Mistress," replied the commander of the male force.  
"Excellent. Proceed with the plan then."  
"As you command, Mistress."

The alien ship maneuvered alongside the derelict Silverado. A docking port extended and latched itself to the Silverado's starboard saucer airlock.  
"I'm picking up sporadic power surges," reported the science officer.  
"They appear to have suffered a severe systems failure," replied another.  
Their leader contemplated for a moment.  
"They will be ripe for the picking."

Wowryk looked up at the ceiling of Unbalanced Equations as a shudder ran through the ship. She and Nurse Kerry had set up shop in the lounge, since they couldn't get to sickbay. She felt a sudden spell of dizziness as voices whispered at the edge of her consciousness. She shook her head.  
"Doctor?" asked the nurse, "are you OK?"  
"Yeah, fine. Just stress, I think."

"What was that?" Stafford asked .  
"Dunno," replied Lieutenant Stern, the night shift security officer.  
"Can't you tell anything?"  
"Yeah. Right. I'm going to use my magical psychic abilities, since all the ship's sensors are down."  
"Shut up! Ensign Burke?"  
"Nothing,"  
"F**k."

Jeffery was still clicking switches in Impulse Engineering.  
Click!  
Tertiary antimatter storage field power backups.  
Click!  
Lateral sensor array emergency power.  
Click!  
Internal security sensors.  
"INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!"  
"Uh-oh…"

"S**T!" shouted Stern and Burke together.  
"What?"  
"We've got a vessel of unknown configuration docked at our starboard airlock!" said Burke, panicked.  
"And intruders in the airlock!" added Stern.  
"F**K!" Stafford swore, "Stafford to T'Parief! Intruders in the starboard airlock! Find out who they are. If they're not friendly, blast them!"  
"Understood."  
"Stafford to Jeffery, stop flipping switches! Now would be a very bad time to lose power!"  
"Aye sir,"

T'Parief, Dar'ugal and several other security officers met on Deck 9, then proceeded towards the airlock, armed with phaser rifles.  
"We talk first," rumbled T'Parief, "then we shoot them, if necessary."  
"Aye sir,"  
T'Parief had reached the T-junction near the airlock. He looked carefully around the corner and saw several black-suited figures stalking down the corridor.  
"Halt! Identify yourselves!" he shouted.  
No response.  
"I said STOP!" snarled T'Parief.  
One of the figures lifted his weapon and sent a shot towards the security chief, who ducked back behind the corner.  
"Ok, we attack!" he said, baring his teeth.  
He swung his rifle around the corner and started firing stun shots at the lead figure. The black body armor absorbed several shots before the figure finally collapsed.  
"Go up to setting 6!" T'Parief ordered.  
Dar'ugal and the other security guards lay down covering fire as T'Parief skirted to the other side of the junction. He turned and added his fire to theirs. Two more figures fell, but the rest continued to advance. One figure fired at Ensign Marsden, sending the young man slamming back against the wall.

"We're being pushed back!" came T'Parief's rushed voice over Stafford's comm-badge, "I've been cut off from the security team! The invaders have split up. One group is pressing towards Unbalanced Equations, the other one is after me."  
"Hold out as long as you can," Stafford said, "we're trying to get reinforcements to you."

T'Parief ducked and dodged down the corridor, pursued by 3 of the black figures. He kept firing back, but was outnumbered. He needed to even the numbers…  
He dodged into a jefferies tube, heading for Deck 11, leaving the hatch open behind him.

Ensign Dar'ugal and his team had fallen back to the last intersection between the invaders and Unbalanced Equations before being joined by reinforcements led by Lieutenant Stern. Crouching behind corners and supports, they blasted at the invaders.

T'Parief waded through the flooded corridors of Deck 11, looking for an escape. Two of the invaders had followed him down, but he had no clue where the other one was.  
Coming to the door to one of one of the enlisted men's quarters, he pried open the door and slipped inside. Working his way to one of the bunk beds, he pulled himself out of the water. He could here the invaders coming up to the door.  
"T'Parief to Jeffery," he said, "now would be a good time for Deck 11 to get power!"  
"Are ye daft?" Jeffery asked as one figure starting squeezing through the door."  
"Trust me! Hit it NOW!"  
BZZZTTT!  
Sparks flew as power flowed through the water, through most of Deck 11, and through the two invading aliens. The two figures jerked and writhed before collapsing beneath the water. After a few seconds, the sparks stopped.  
T'Parief waited a few moments for Jeffery to start restoring power.  
"T'Parief to Jeffery,"  
"Yeah?"  
"Whatever you do, do NOT restore power to Deck 11!"  
"Power up Deck 11, don't power up Deck 11, make up your mind!"  
"T'Parief out." He jumped down, ready to hunt down the remaining alien.

Up on the bridge, Ensign Burke was tapping away at the internal sensors.  
"Most of the invaders are concentrating their attack on Unbalanced Equations. T'Parief fried the two after him. That leaves one heading for Impulse Engineering,"  
"Engineering is ALWAYS a target," Stafford mused, "but what the hell is so special about the crew lounge?"

A single alien soldier climbed down the turboshaft towards what his scanner indicated was the emergency power and sublight engineering section. Hi name was Epsilon 246. His life had been a short one, and he knew it wasn't likely to last much longer. But if it meant the success of his mission in the name of his Mistress, he would give it up in a second.  
Climbing out of the shaft and onto Deck 14 he checked his scanner again, then headed towards his goal. He took a quick moment to wonder why these aliens had completely different décor on different levels of their ship, then carried on.

Following directions from the bridge, T'Parief skirted down the turboshaft ladder and onto Deck 14. He quickly picked up the trail of this quarry. Yup. Straight to Impulse Engineering.  
Trying to be as quiet as possible, T'Parief ran down the corridor. He snagged a talon in a loose carpet thread and stumbled, biting back a curse. He regained his footing and hurried on.  
As he turned the last corner to Impulse Engineering, he spotted the alien creeping up on an unsuspecting Jeffery. He rushed towards him and leapt, claws outstretched. T'Parief bulky frame knocked the alien to the ground, slamming his forehead against his helmet, cracking his skull.  
"AHA!" T'Parief roared, "GOT YOU!" He ripped the aliens faceplate off, revealing a pale but handsome face beneath.  
"Why are you here!" demanded the security chief, "what gives you the right to glarnk around on MY ship!"  
Blood leaked from the alien's mouth as he mumbled his last words.  
"For my Mistress…"  
"Oh," moaned T'Parief, "son of a blartch!"

"Captain," Burke said, 'I'm getting some funny readings from that ship,"  
"What kind of 'funny readings'?"  
"I don't know…primary sensors are offline. It would really help if Fifebee were here."  
"Well, she's not!"  
"T'Parief to Stafford,"  
"What?"  
"I've taken out the alien headed for Engineering,"  
"Great. Learn anything?"  
"Not really. But he mentioned a Mistress,"  
Stafford's blood went cold.  
"You're sure?"  
"Very,"  
"Burke?" Stafford said as he bit his lip, "do those energy reading resemble the cortical induction field we encountered during the launch?"  
"Um, kinda. A bit."  
"So they're very likely the same aliens who planted that spatial interphase generator on the ship and trapped us in a woman-controlled dreamland?  
"I guess,"  
"F**K!"

Stern and Dar'ugal continued firing at the attacking aliens. T'Parief had joined them, adding his firepower. The aliens were no longer advancing, but they weren't going back either.  
"Stafford to Stern. They're after ! Keep them away from the lounge AT ALL COSTS!"  
"Sure," snapped Stern, "that's completely different from what we were doing before!"  
"I've sent Simmons down to the Armory to get heavier ordinance," yelled T'Parief.  
"And I'm back!" said Simmons brightly, "Who wants the photon grenades and who wants the plasma bombs?"  
"Plasma bombs? Are you trying to blow up the ship?"  
"Um, no?"  
"Stern: toss out a grenade. After it goes off you, me and Dar'ugal will finish them!"  
"Got it!"  
Stern chucked a grenade down the corridor. It bounced right between the armored figures and detonated, filling the corridor with a blinding flash. The three security officers were instantly on their feet, rushing down the corridor, weapons at the ready.  
Turned out to be pretty pointless. There was nothing left of the attackers except for scorch marks on what was left of the corridor walls.  
"T'Parief to Stafford, The attackers have been repelled."

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56258.4

"Once their boarding party was defeated, the alien ship took off for parts unknown. Don't know why they didn't fire on us, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth."  
"The important thing is that they didn't get Dr. Wowryk. Who knows why they want her. Seriously, if you're going to go to all this trouble to catch a woman, go for one that won't beat the crap out of you! Seriously though, Wowryk is OK and nobody was killed."  
"Mr. Jeffery and his team have drained all the flooded sections and emergency power has been restored. Unfortunately, our other repairs won't be as easy."

"There was heavy damage to most of Deck 11 and the navigational deflector," Jeffery was saying, "It's going to take days just to replace all the burnt out conduits and circuits, never mind getting the mildew out of the carpets!"  
"So we're stuck dead in the water for a few days," said Jall, "we've been in that situation before. It's no big deal."  
"Right, this from the guys who slept through all the fun!"  
"I was sleepy!"  
"Jeffery, continue please," Stafford said tiredly. He and the senior staff were in the conference lounge.  
"Transporters, replicators and holographic systems are going to be offline for at least 4 days. Warp drive will be up in 2. Weapons and shields are fine, except that the conduits for the ventral saucer phaser arrays go through Deck 11 and are a bit fried. Same story for the pulse cannon."  
"But the big problem is the navigational deflector. The main particle emitter is burned right out. So are the magnetic field generators. We can't even use impulse power without it!"  
"Can we replicate replacements?"  
"Aye, for most of what we need. But we're going to need a quantum flux oscillator to rebuild the deflector. Ye can't replicate those."  
"S**t," commented Jall.  
"Aye,"  
"We're only two weeks from Waystation," said Yanick, "can't they send us one?"  
"Probably," said Noonan, "but that will leave us here for nearly two weeks."  
"We don't have much of a choice," T'Parief said, "we shouldn't send out a general distress call. We cannot risk attracting the aliens back here until we're back to full strength. And we cannot go very far."  
"Jall, contact Waystation and request the parts we need. I guess we'll just sit tight and do what we can until then."

Yanick caught up to T'Parief as everybody crowded out of the conference lounge.  
"This really sucks, doesn't it," she said.  
"Yes. It does."  
"We're stuck, alone, weeks from any help."  
"We are."  
"The ship's damaged and drifting."  
"That's what the meeting was about."  
"Don't be so calm!" Yanick cried.  
T'Parief looked over at Yanick and saw that she had tears on her face.  
"I'm scared," she said in a small voice.  
T'Parief pulled her into a hug. She buried her head in his shoulder.  
"Don't worry," he said, "The Captain and Jeffery have everything figured out. Ships are usually far from help. We'll be OK."  
"Thanks," Yanick sniffed.  
Jall swung by on his way out and wrapped an arm around Yanick's shoulder.  
"You two make such a cute couple!" he teased.

Stafford sat in his ready room with Jeffery and Wowryk.  
"You understand why I'm worried," he said to Wowryk.  
"You're worried I'm going to become a power-hungry tyrant again." Wowryk said.  
"No. Well, yes. But I'm more worried about you being kidnapped and dragged away so these aliens can do who-knows-what to you."  
"Maybe they want me to be their new leader?"  
"Yeah," Jeffery chuckled, "or they might be in desperate need of a good priest!"  
Wowryk glared at Jeffery, who immediately stopped laughing.  
"We're keeping round the clock security on you, Doctor," Stafford said, "they're not going to get you. And I'm sure Mr. Jeffery will be helping to keep an eye on you too, since you two are getting so close."  
"Aye, that Ah can do,"  
"Dismissed."  
Noonan walked in as Wowryk and Jeffery departed.  
"Is it me, or does she already have him completely whipped?" Stafford asked.  
"Yes. And they've only been on one date. Impressive."  
"Why do you think they want her?" Stafford asked.  
"We've been through this before. I don't know."  
"C'mon! You have opinions and ideas, smart ones too, about everything."  
"From what we've been able to deduce, we're dealing with a society run by women. What would a society like that need for? Granted she's aggressive, beautiful and can make any man-"  
Stafford cleared his throat.  
"-any man," Noonan continued, "jump through whatever hoops she wants. But a race led by women would presumably have plenty of women like that."  
"Hmm. Well, whatever they want, I hope they don't come back for awhile."

On board the alien ship, the surviving crew sat before the viewscreen as their Mistress addressed them.  
"You've all failed," she said coldly, "you've failed to defeat the Federation ship, even though it was damaged. You failed to retrieve the subject. You lost the entire boarding party, with NOTHING to show for it! And we have now lost the element of surprise!"  
"We're sorry, Mistress,"  
"SORRY ISN"T GOOD ENOUGH!" she snapped, "You're all worthless! WORTHLESS! You should be confined to the torture chamber for weeks for what you've done!"  
"W-w-weeks?"  
"But I have no time for the likes of you! Rest assured, we WILL get what we want! But you will not live to see it!"  
She tapped a single button. The ship exploded, sending debris flying in all directions.

Back at her base, the Mistress watched the remains of Scout 283B spread across her screen. She had other ships. Other plans. Other tactics. She would get what she wanted. One way or another.

End.

Well, that's it! The end of Silverado? Hardly! But it's the halfway point of Silverado's first run. Coming up in the next half: Botched deliveries, video game spoofs and the final showdown with the mystery women!


	9. 9 - Fragmentation

Star Traks: Silverado

1.9, Fragmentation

Captain's Log, Stardate 56263.4

"It's been 5 days since we had our little accident. 'Little accident!' Right. And the Titanic was 'just a ship.' Anyway, Mr. Jeffery and his team have been working to get ship's systems back online. At this point, there isn't much more he can do until our replacement parts come in. Honesty, if a part can't be replicated, shouldn't they at least give us a spare?"  
"There have been no sign of our mysterious attackers. As much as I would love to get the hell away from here, we can't go faster than one-tenth impulse until replacement parts arrive without risking damage to the ship. We're basically sitting ducks. But we have a surprise or two in store for anybody who comes to pick a fight!"  
"On another negative note, the standard assortment of glitches and mechanical problems on this ship has kept everybody too busy to finish installing the holodecks. So we're stuck in the middle of nowhere with no holodecks and nothing to do! Needless to say some people are getting REALLY bored."

Stafford moved slowly through the dimly lit halls, clutching his weapon to his chest. Light from the torches mounted on the walls cast flickering shadows everywhere. He peered around a corner, spotting his prey! Jall was walking across a large, open room, unaware he was being stalked. Stafford raised his weapon and aimed carefully at Jall's head. This was one shot he couldn't possible miss!  
Before he could pull the trigger he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber, right before it sliced neatly through his neck, sending his head rolling across the floor. The assailant threw the weapon straight at Jall, spearing him right through the heart. Jall collapsed with a moan.

Stafford pounded his desk in frustration.  
"God DAMMIT!" he shouted.  
"F**kberries!" exclaimed Jall.  
"Like hitting two birds with one stone," Noonan's voice came over the comm.  
"We ARE going to take you down, you little bastard!" Stafford growled. His character had re-spawned and he was again running down the hallways. He checked the score. Stafford 3, Jall 5, T'Parief 6, Noonan 17.  
After several days of trying desperately to entertain themselves with Yatzee, tic-tac-toe and Vulcan Trivial Pursuit, (which had ended with T'Parief forcibly embedding his marker in the lounge wall) Jall had started digging through the ship's archive and had found several ancient computer games. Most of them involved running around and shooting at people, which had been right up Jall's alley. Stafford, Noonan, Jall and T'Parief had immediately fiddled with the viewscreens in their quarters to make them compatible with the games. The current variation was based on 'Star Wars'. Stafford didn't have a clue what that meant; only that he got to use a cool laser sword.  
Back in the game, Stafford spotted Noonan at the end of the hall. Running towards him, Stafford aimed and was about to fire when Noonan spun around and fired another shot right through Stafford's cranium.  
"No way!" protested Stafford, "No f**king way!" How could you POSSIBLY know I was behind you?"  
"Footsteps in the game and surround sound in my quarters," Noonan said smugly.  
Noonan quickly hit the 20-point mark, which triggered the computer to end the game and declare Noonan the winner.  
"I need to practice," Jall moaned.

"He kicked our asses," Stafford said to Ensign Yanick, "it was like shooting fish in a barrel!"  
"I had no idea he was such a good shot," T'Parief admitted.  
"I had thought," Dr. Wowryk said coldly, "that our society had evolved beyond the need for such violent means of entertainment."  
"Oh please!" Jall exclaimed, "This from the woman who brought us the joy of the Sisters of the Realm!"  
"That wasn't my fault!" Wowryk objected.  
"You've gotta admit," Stafford said, "after dealing with him all day, wouldn't you like to shoot Jall? Even if it was a computer character?"  
"Hmm…" Wowryk looked thoughtful, "Is there a computer game where you hunt down Atheists and burn them at the stake? 'Catholic Rampage', perhaps?"  
Everybody gave her a horrified look.  
"I'm kidding!"  
"First time for everything," Stafford muttered.  
The four of them were hanging out in Unbalanced Equations, waiting for Jeffery to come off his shift. Steven came by with the drink orders.  
"That's a strawberry daiquiri for Trish," he said as he set down the drink, "a slexxxinth for T'Parief, Long Island iced tea for the Captain, regular iced tea for the good Doctor and a Flaming Redhead for San."  
Yanick giggled.  
"Thanks, Steve," Stafford said as he sipped his drink.  
Wowryk sipped her iced tea.  
"This tastes kinda funny," she said, "did I get the Long Island?"  
Stafford sipped his again. Not a trace of synthehol.  
"No, this is the Long Island," he lied, "must be your imagination." He winked at Yanick, who stifled another giggle.  
Wowryk shrugged and took another drink, wincing slightly.  
"Seriously though," Stafford said, "hasn't anyone ever had the feeling that something is really not right with that guy?"  
"What guy?"  
"Noonan!"  
Wowryk frowned.  
"Now that you mention it, I was going to drag him into Sickbay after our little adventure on the Stallion. His skin started peeling, and it looked like he had a really bad case of radiation sickness," she said.  
"So why didn't you?"  
"I dunno. I guess it slipped my mind."  
"He seems like a nice guy to me," Trish said.  
"You think everybody and their dog is nice!" Jall laughed.  
"Well, I think that is an endearing quality," T'Parief said.  
"Oh please! It's a hostile galaxy! You can't go around being nice to everybody!"  
"I said," T'Parief growled, baring his teeth at Jall, "it is an ENDEARING QUALITY!"  
"Yes. Yes it is," Jall said quickly, eyes locked on T'Parief's teeth, "Charming. My, what big teeth you have, Grandma!"

Jeffery was in Engineering, tinkering with Fifebee's holo-relay. It had gotten a bit banged up when the flood of water had knocked out all the ship's systems the previous week. It had worked fine for a few days after the accident, once power had been restored to the holographic memory core, but some obscure component had finally failed, leaving Silverado without a science officer and Jeffery with an unfamiliar piece of technology.  
"Oy," he muttered to himself, "they just keep makin' these things smaller and smaller! They're going to have to issue me smaller fingers! Hey, Frit!" he called to one of his technicians, "See if ye can squeeze yer fingers in here and check this circuit!"  
"Yes sir," the attractive (but very small) Nicondii officer said. She took the probe from Jeffery and extended her arm into the guts of the relay.  
"Looks like this connection is loose," she said. There was a click as she plugged the tiny connector back into place. "Try it now,"  
Jeffery replaced the panel and tapped at the relay's controls. Lines of data scrolled up the screen and Fifebee flickered into being.  
"I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram," she said in a calm, pleasing tone. Then, aggravated, "Geez, I hate saying that!"  
"Well Ah'm sorry," Jeffery said, "but regs state-"  
"That 'any hologram bearing a level of sentience enabling him or her to serve in a capacity intended for an organic being is to state his/her identity and/or function upon being activated'" Fifebee quoted.  
"Yeah," Jeffery said, "that's the one."  
"It's a stupid regulation! When you wake up you don't say 'I'm Simon Jeffery, Chief Engineer'!"  
"Well, no…"  
"Exactly!"  
"As much as Ah'm lovin' the holographic rights speech, I'm supposed to meet Noel in the lounge. You can come too."  
"I suppose I need to catch up on what's been happening…"  
"Then there ye go."

Fifebee parked her emitter in its corner then followed Jeffery to the lounge. She was still running self-diagnostics after her little crash. Her personality matrix was a bit unstable, which wasn't all that unusual. Fifebee found the influence the other personalities in her database had on her varied from day to day. Sometimes they were merely a source of information, as they were intended to be. On occasion, one personality would assert itself over the others. She hadn't had much trouble pushing those personalities back down, once she realized what they were doing. So far.  
As she followed Jeffery to the table, she spotted Stafford.  
"The Captain's here too?" she said.  
"I guess so."  
"Oh. Well, see you later. I'm going over there now," she pointed to the bar.  
"Suit yourself."  
Jeffery sat down at the table next to Wowryk, draping an arm over her shoulders. She immediately pushed it off, took another swing of her drink and gave a small hiccup.  
"What did I say about physical contact?" she asked.  
Jeffery sighed, "'Keep it to a minimum.' Hello to you too, by the way."  
Stafford stifled a chuckle. Wowryk and Jeffery were officially seeing each other. Unofficially, that meant that Jeffery was Noel's 'Pet Man'.  
"I see you've got Fifebee back online," Stafford said.  
"Why didn't she come say hi?" asked Yanick.  
"Oh, um, she just wanted some personal time." Jeffery said, his eyes darting to Stafford.  
"Well she shouldn't come to the lounge just to sit all by herself!" Yanick objected.  
"What does it matter," Stafford said, "she's got all those personalities. If she gets bored she can always talk amongst her selves." Jall chuckled.  
"I don't know why you two are acting so childish!" Wowryk said. She reached across the table to wag a finger in Stafford's face, lost her balance, and nearly fell.  
"What are ye drinking?" Jeffery asked.  
"It's just iced tea. I lost my balance."  
"Right…let me take a sip of that!" Jeffery took Wowryk's glass, which was actually Stafford's Long Island iced tea.  
Stafford looked up at Jeffery and started shaking his head 'no!'.  
"This tastes…oh-" Jeffery caught sight of Stafford, "-absolutely fine. Why don't I get you another?"  
"Please,"  
"Well," Stafford said, "you seem to have him pretty well trained. Is he house-broken yet?"  
"I resent that impla….amplec….imperlac…." Wowryk looked to Yanick, "a little help?'  
"Implication?" T'Parief grumbled.  
"Yeah, what he said! I implicate that resentment!"  
"Whatever," Yanick giggled, "the whole ship knows you've got him whipped!"  
"He is not whipped! I firmly said 'no sex before marriage, bondage included'!" Wowryks words were getting increasingly slurred, "besides, it's not like you don't have this big lug wrapped around your little finger!"  
"I tried," Yanick said, "he didn't fit."  
Jeffery returned with the drinks, prompting a change in topic.  
"On the Gorm home world," T'Parief piped in, "males are not intimidated by females. Not usually anyway. On the other hand, Andorian women scare the hell out of everybody, male and female. That can be very sexy, in an aggressive, animal kind of way."  
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call Yanick intimidating," Stafford chucked.  
"You don't have to be fearsome to be intimidating," T'Parief said, "beauty can be intimidating too."  
Yanick blushed bright red.  
Wowryk turned to Jeffery.  
"How come you never say sweet things like that to me?" she slurred.  
"Because when Ah tried to compliment ye on yer figure, ye called me a 'sexist male pig who never thinks with anything but his penis'."  
"Oh, right!" Wowryk giggled.

Fifebee sat at her stool in Unbalanced Equations, listening to the chatter. A part of her noted the increasing comradeship onboard and determined that would increase both performance and efficiency. Starship crews usually began to bond after surviving a crisis or two together.  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Steven asked.  
"Two for yours," Fifebee responded without thinking.  
"Huh?  
"Nevermind. Steven, am I antisocial?"  
"Um…no…", Steven backed carefully away.  
"They why can't I integrate with this crew?"  
"Well, alienating the Captain during his shore leave really didn't help."  
"Well that was partly his fault!" Fifebee snapped, "Why is he getting along so well with everybody, while I'm sitting here by myself!"  
"Look," Steven tossed down his rag, "you're a hologram. Running on a computer. It makes sense that you would process everything logically. But we don't work that way!"  
"Maybe you should,"  
"Maybe," Steven gave a crooked grin, "but that would make life so boring!"  
"In your opinion!"  
"Look, did you even TRY to go over there and sit down?"  
"Well, no. I didn't feel comfortable approaching them."  
"Ok, so how is you sitting here all alone their fault then?"  
"Because," Fifebee said between clenched teeth, "they are making no effort to include me in anything!"  
"Oookay. So you're sitting alone, not talking to anybody, and it's their fault that you're not socializing with the crew? Hmph. So much for holograms using logic!"  
"Bite me!" Fifebee snapped as she stalked out of the room.

Commander Noonan leaned back in the command chair. Technically, his shift had ended hours ago, but he really didn't have anything important to do. He had already fed enough for the day and he just had the feeling that he should be on watch. Ensign Burke sat at the science station, archiving his collection of Deltan pornography.  
"You know," Noonan said, still looking at the main viewscreen, "you really shouldn't be viewing that kind of material on the bridge."  
Burke started, "How did you-"  
"I saw the reflection in the viewscreen."  
"Oh. I'm sorry sir…I'm just really bored."  
"I understand. Carry on."  
"Yes sir!"  
The turbolift doors hissed open and Fifebee stepped out. She glanced at Burke's monitor.  
"I didn't think that was physically possible," she said.  
"Deltans are very skilled!" Burke grinned. Ensign Kay, the dark-skinned Deltan assigned to Ops for the night shift, smirked to himself.  
"Indeed," Fifebee sat down beside Burke.  
"Ensign, how do you find working with me?" she asked.  
"Huh?"  
"You are the night shift science officer. I brief you at the beginning of every one of your shifts. Have you found my work habits and social skills to be acceptable?"  
Burke shot a panicked look at Noonan, who simply grinned.  
"Well, you've always been, um, civil," Burke stammered. He was saved when Lieutenant Stern started shouting from the Tactical station.  
"I have two contacts at 65 mark 8! Same configurations as the ship that attacked us before!" he called out.  
"S**t!" Noonan swore, "Ensign Kay, you know what to do. Senior officers, report to the bridge! We have incoming!"  
Lights flickered then faded as Kay shut down main power to the entire ship. Outside the ship, running lights, thrusters and sensor arrays shut down. Inside, emergency power ran at very low levels, making the ship appear completely dead in space. Some distance away, the two cylindrical ships glided through space.  
"What are they doing?" asked Noonan.  
"They're dropping out of warp and coming alongside," reported Stern.  
Stafford and T'Parief chose that moment to pop out of the jefferies tube hatch concealed below the main viewscreen.  
"Report!"  
"Two ships just dropped out of warp and are preparing to dock," Noonan stated.  
"Are we ready?"  
"Yes."  
"Distance?"  
"4000 meters."  
"Let me know when they get to 200 meters."  
"Aye sir,"  
Stafford sat back in his chair, both pleased with the efficiency of his crew (for once) and concerned with the situation.  
"Are the shuttles ready?" Stafford said quietly to Noonan.  
"We've got Pysternzyk in the Avalanch, Menzies in the Camero and Glenn in the Charger."  
"Good,"  
"200 meters," T'Parief called out.  
"Lock phasers," Stafford ordered.  
"Phasers locked."  
"Now Mr. Kay!"  
Kay's fingers played across his console as systems all over the ship came back up to full power. The red alert klaxon blared as beams of energy burst from the ship's phaser array, cutting through the unshielded hull of the starboard attacker. Unfortunately, the phaser banks on the Silverado's port side were dead.  
"The starboard ship has been disabled," reported T'Parief, "no survivors."  
The Silverado shook as the port ship opened fire.  
"Shields down to 90%"  
"Return fires!" Noonan ordered.  
"Port phasers are not responding.,"  
The alien vessel kept close to the Silverado's port side as it pounded on the shields with its weapons. Sparks flew across the bridge.  
"Jeffery!" Stafford called, "what's going on?"  
"Some of the EPS manifolds are still initializing! Ye can't expect this crosspatch of a ship to start up on a dime!"  
"Launch the shuttles," Stafford ordered, "if they can keep the aliens busy we can bring our working weapons to bear."  
"Aye,"  
Three Type 9 shuttles shot out of the lower shuttle bay. Spinning around the warp nacelles they fired their less powerful (but more functional) weapons. The alien ship took evasive maneuvers, dodging under the Silverado as the shuttles gave chase.  
"They are too close for us to safely attack," reported T'Parief.  
"Put some distance between us!"  
"Captain," Kay pointed out, "without the nav deflector-"  
"Our shields will hold! Full impulse power!"  
The impulse engines fired, sending the ship rocketing forward. The ship shook slightly.  
"Space junk impact," reported Kay, "shields down by 2%"  
As the Silverado moved clear of the alien ship, T'Parief opened up with the phaser banks. Unable to withstand the combined firepower of the ship and 3 shuttles, the alien vessel exploded.  
"Secure from red alert," Stafford ordered, "All stop. Good job everybody!" He clapped Noonan on the shoulder. Ensign Burke peeked up from where he had crouched behind the auxiliary console. The jefferies tube hatch opened up and Lieutenant Jall poked his head out.  
"Am I too late?"

Stafford and T'Parief walked through the corridor towards Officers Quarters after the crisis had ended.  
"I'm impressed," Stafford was saying as he yawned, "our plan worked great! We blew the s**t out them, we're still here, and we even have a wreck to investigate tomorrow morning! I just hope that now we can get some sleep!"  
"Our weapons failed." T'Parief said flatly.  
"Well, nothing can ever be perfect!"  
"True. I attribute our success to the fact that Jall was not on the bridge."  
"No comment," Stafford reached the door to his quarters, "g'night,"

Having returned to her quarters following the end of the crisis, Fifebee paced back and forth like a caged animal. The walls were still bare, the furniture was standard issue. The place didn't even look lived in. Fifebee debated spending her night doing some redecorating, but quickly banished that idea. She didn't want to be alone all night. All the other senior officers were sleeping, so she decided to head up to the bridge and finish her conversation with Ensign Burke.

Some distance away, an upset Mistress was debriefing her minions.  
"Why did the attack fail!?" she demanded.  
Alpha 27 bowed low.  
"We've lost contact with Scout 372 and Scout 212," he reported, "Long range scans indicate they were defeated."  
"I know that!" the Mistress had been able to sense the death of the ships' crews through the cortical induction generators on board. "What I want to know is WHY?"  
"They outgunned us!"  
"We saw them barely defeat an assault by a single scout! Two should be more than enough to defeat them!"  
"Yes, Mistress,"  
"You are an incompetent buffoon!"  
"Yes, Mistress,"  
She started pacing the marble floor of her palace.  
"We need to rethink our strategy," she finally decided, "We've been properly cautious, up until now."  
"Yes, Mistress, you've been very-"  
"Shut up!" she snapped. She made a small upwards gesture, sending Alpha flying towards the ceiling. He hovered, 20 feet above the hard, marble floor.  
"We need to regain the element of surprise," she finally decided, "We'll wait until they become complacent, then overwhelm them and take what we want!"  
"W-w-what are your orders for me, Mistress?" stuttered Alpha 27.  
"Watch them, and wait for my signal," she ordered. She waved her hand again, banishing Alpha 27 back to the Real World.

Stern, Burke, Pye and Kay were still on the bridge. Normally, a Days of Honor re-run or a movie would be playing on the screen, but since the ship was still recovering from an emergency, everybody was actually paying close attention to their stations.  
The turbolift doors swished open and Fifebee stepped out. Lieutenant Stern immediately popped out of the command chair.  
"Lieutenant!" he said, surprised, "is something wrong? Is there anything I can do for you?"  
"No, thank you," she said coolly. She sat next to Burke at the science station, who sent Stern a look of panic.  
"I would like to continue our previous conversation," she said without preamble.  
"Um, which conversation would that be?"  
"The one we here having before the attack, regarding your opinion of me."  
"Oh. That one."  
"Yes," there was silence, "well?"  
"I really don't feel comfortable talking about this…."  
Fifebee glared at him.  
"Ok, Ok. You're great! You're wonderful! Everybody loves having you around!"  
"Somehow," Fifebee said, "I doubt your sincerity,"  
"What do you want me to say, that you're a frigid bitch who never goes out of her way to do anything nice for anybody? Oh. Oops…."  
Fifebee frowned. "Interesting. Don't I always use polite language during our daily briefings?"  
"Yeah,"  
"Do I make unreasonable requests of you?"  
"No,"  
"Do I assign too great a workload?"  
"Naw, I'm fine. Oh, wait, can I change that answer?"  
"Then what is the problem?" Fifebee asked, frustrated.  
"There isn't really a problem, I guess, you're just not very social!"  
"Please explain,"  
"I thought," Burke was really sweating now, "that you had, like, all this information on this kinda stuff stored in your database?"  
"I do. I'm just having problems applying it. And much of it, such as small-talk, seems ridiculous or superfluous."  
"Well, maybe it's not! We've been working together for months now, and you've never asked me how I was feeling! Do you have any idea what my interests are? Where I grew up? The only time you ever talk to me is when you have something work related to say!"  
Fifebee frowned, "According to the information I have, social interaction in the workplace can be very good for your mental health. I'm already mentally healthy, and so I dismissed such activities as being inefficient!"  
"You're sounding Vulcan again,"  
"Sorry,"  
"My point," Burke said, " is that unless you give people the impression that you care a bit about them outside of work, they're just as likely to get the impression that you don't want anything to do with them!"  
"Why do I have to be the one to reach out?"  
"Well," piped in Lieutenant Stern, "because the LAST time somebody reached out to you, you shot him down!"  
"You know nothing about that situation!" Fifebee accused, "It wasn't all my fault!"  
"We're not saying it was," Burke said, "we're just saying that something like that can make people more…reluctant…to approach you."  
"I was doing much better before that incident," Fifebee admitted.  
"So there you go!" Burke smiled weakly. His smile suddenly faded and his eyes drooped. His head dropped forward, as though he were about to pass out.  
"Ensign?" Fifebee asked, concerned, "Are you feeling OK?"  
When Burke's eye's cleared, he gazed at Fifebee. His eyes drew a path down her neck towards her modest (but perfectly formed!) breasts. He lips drew back in a wide smile.  
"Why my dear!" he said, in an exaggerated French accent, "what is a lovely thing like you doing up here! You are simply stunning!" He grabbed her hand and started kissing it.  
"Ensign," Fifebee said flatly, "I appreciate the gesture, but it's unnecessary!"  
"Oh, my love," Burke went on, "your smile is like the kiss of an angel! Computer! Music! Play something…sexy…"  
A lively Tango began to play. Burke pulled Fifebee out of her chair and began leading her around the bridge in a dance. Stern, Pye and Kay stared in amazement.  
"Your hand is in a very inappropriate place!" Fifebee said, annoyed.  
Burke responded by grinning again and giving Fifebee's bottom another squeeze.  
"Ensign! Let me go right now!"  
"I love it when you play hard to get!" Burke pressed his lips against Fifebee's and pulled her body against him. Fifebee responded briefly, as one of her more playful personalities came bubbling to the surface. She quickly repressed the personality, pushed Burke away and slapped him across the face.  
"How did you know I like it rough?" he laughed as he jumped on her, knocking her to the deck. Stern and Pye quickly latched onto his arms and dragged him off of her.  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" demanded Pye.  
"Nothing is wrong! I am simply overcome with desire for this beautiful young flower!"  
"Stop talking with that ridiculous accent!" snapped Stern.  
"No! I will honor my proud French heritage!"  
"You're not French!"  
"Oh, but I am!"  
In all the commotion, nobody noticed Ensign Kay slumping against the Ops console. After a brief second, he jumped back up and started singing in a loud, deep and horribly off-key voice.

Oh, my gorgeous gal, she's just so fine!  
A shiny bald head, and a great behind!  
She's the finest thing I've ever seen!  
My gorgeous, Deltan queen!

Stern and Pye broke out giggling.  
"This has gone far enough," Fifebee said, shaking her head, "Fifebee to Noonan, we have a situation up on the bridge."  
No response.  
"Fifebee to Noonan, respond."  
Silence.  
"Fifebee to Stafford?"  
Nothing.  
"Not good," she muttered.  
Pye suddenly started shouting.  
"I am the Lord Red Baron! Legendary flying ace! Watch, and be amazed!"  
He stated tapping at the helm console, sending the ship into a sharp dive. Fifebee could hear a PING as some piece of space debris smashed into the hull.  
"Computer! Override helm console, authorization 5-B Alpha-439823523-Omega. All stop."  
"Override successful," replied the computer cheerfully, "all stop."  
"Lock out all command functions."  
"Lockout complete."  
"Lieutenant Stern, try to maintain some semblance of order while I go find the other senior officers."  
"You can count on me! I, the great General Stern, will gladly offer my services!"  
Fifebee paused as the personalities in her database battled amongst themselves. P'Tang of the Klingon Military wanted to gut the entire bridge crew like fish. Jadzia Dax, playful Trill scientist, wanted to burst out laughing. And Spock felt that the entire bridge crew was behaving in a most illogical fashion. Finally, the fledging personality that was Fifebee chose what felt to her like the best course of action.  
"Carry on," she said, then stepped into the turbolift.

Fifebee stepped out of the turbolift on Deck 3. She walked quickly to the door of Noonan's quarters and rang the chime.  
"Come in, my darling," came Noonan's voice. He had affected a strong Transylvanian accent.  
"Commander, I need to report-"  
Noonan cut her off.  
"Come in, come in," he said. The doors opened and Noonan grasped her arm and pulled her into his quarters.  
The lights were off. Candles were scattered on every surface. Red velvet curtains hung over the windows. In the dining area a red tablecloth had been laid out and the table set with sterling silver cutlery, fine china plates and a silver-plated candelabrum. A small feast had been set out. Roast beef, potatoes, thick gravy, vegetables, dinner rolls, calamari, salad and a bowl of some kind of soup. Noonan himself was wearing an immaculately pressed tuxedo, complete with a long, black cape. His hair had been slicked back.  
"Come, sit. You must be exhausted from you long trip!"  
"Commander Noonan, I need to-"  
"Try some wine,"  
"I don't eat or drink! There's trouble on the bridge!"  
"The bridge?" Noonan frowned, "Are those pesky villagers on their way up here again? I do hope they left the torches at home this time!'  
"Commander Noonan, I really-"  
"I am not Commander Noonan! I am the great Count Dracula! MWA-HA-HA!"  
Fifebee slapped him across the face. I can see why Dr. Wowryk finds that so satisfying… she thought to herself. Out loud, she said:  
"Come to your senses! You are Matthew Noonan, a commander in Starfleet, and I need your help!"  
"Of course you need my help! You need my help to relax. Have a sip of wine, a taste of food, then rest your weary body in the comfort of my bed,"  
"Why is every man on this ship suddenly trying to get under my pants!" sighed Fifebee, exasperated, "That's it! I'm going to find the captain!"  
She turned to the door. To her surprise, Noonan was already there.  
"You cannot leave, my sweet!"  
"Wanna bet?"  
"I will make you mine, FOREVER!" he lunged forward with incredible speed. His mouth clamped on Fifebee's neck. He gave a yelp of pain and jumped back as he chipped his teeth on Fifebee's holographic force fields.  
"My tooth!" Noonan gasped, "How dare you! Impudent wench!"  
"This situation is getting a little too intense," Fifebee said. She accessed the command pathways for her holo-relay.  
RE-INITIALIZE HOLO-RELAY PROJECTION SYSTEM. SET LOCATION TO DEFAULT.  
Fifebee dematerialized just as Noonan lunged at her again. He passed right through the spot where she had been standing and stumbled over a chair.

Fifebee rematerialized next to her holo-relay near Impulse Engineering on Deck 16. Her relay had been strategically placed to give her access to as much of the ship as possible, without lugging the relay around. If Jeffery ever got around to getting the ship's holodecks and holo-emmiters working…but never mind.  
"I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram," she said to the empty room, "honestly, what the hell is the point in having me say that if there is NOBODY HERE!"  
Her frustration vented, she began to analyze the situation.  
Noonan's behavior was very unusual, even for him! she thought to herself. To her surprise, she received an immediate reply.  
He is a freak or an enemy spy! raged P'Tang, We should kill him immediately!  
He's not a freak! laughed Dr. Chapel, He's just having some emotional problems. Or he's been possessed by aliens or watching too much TV or something.  
You are not being logical piped in Spock, I have a number of theories regarding Noonan's behavior.  
And what are these theories? asked Fifebee cautiously. She felt a cool shiver of fear. The various personalities that were included in her database were supposed to work in the background, assisting in her data processing and adding their experience to her own. They weren't supposed to behave like this!  
I cannot discuss my theories without additional data to confirm them!  
Well a fat lot of help you are! snapped the personality of Tilleran, a Betazoid scientist from the U.S.S. Explorer.  
I fail to see how my body weight applies to the situation.  
SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU! snapped Fifebee, God, no wonder I'm such a bitch! Anybody would be if they had to put up with all of you all day!  
There is no need to be-  
SHUT UP! Fifebee cut off the interrupting personality.  
But we were only-  
SHHHH!  
-trying to  
SHHHH!  
I am an officer of the Klingon Military! I will not be-  
SHHHHHH!  
SHHHHH! Before any of you start! Geez, you have NEVER been this assertive before! Now shut the hell up and let me think!  
Bitch! Fifebee wasn't sure who whispered that last remark.  
"Computer, locate Captain Stafford,"  
"He's in the Mess Hall on Deck 12," the computer said tiredly, "I offered to make him a snack, but he's a big boy now…wants to do everything by himself! Kids these days…there was a time when they appreciated their parents! Why, I remember when I was his age…"  
Fifebee was pretty sure she was starting to experience her first headache.

Fifebee walked along Deck 12 on her way to the Mess Hall. As she came around a corner she saw Lieutenant Jall prancing down the corridor. He had a pair of rabbit ears attached to his head and was carrying a large carrot. He spotted Fifebee, hopped over and took a bite out of his carrot.  
"Meh, what's up Doc?"  
Initiate decision tree:Fifebee commanded her personalities, Query: Is Lieutanant Jall being affected by whatever is affecting the rest of the crew, or is he just being himself?  
Fifebee's personalities did the cybernetic equivalent of exchanging glances amongst themselves, then turned to Fifebee and shrugged.  
"Fat lot of help you all are," she muttered out loud.  
"Uh-oh!" exclaimed Jall. He took off down the corridor.  
Fifebee turned to look.  
T'Parief came stalking around the corner. The 7-foot tall mixed-breed wore ceremonial Gorn hunting garb: A black leather loincloth, a heavy silver chain holding an amulet engraved with his clan sigil and bands of leather with sharp spikes around his neck, knees, biceps and wrists. Greenish metal spikes formed a deadly Mohawk from his rideged forehead down to his neck. He was also carrying a cheap plastic water gun.  
He dresses like a warrior! said the personality of P'Tang with a grin.  
Spock's personality raised an eyebrow. Most of the others were terrified by the spikes, aroused by the bulging muscles, or laughing hysterically at the overall image.  
Fifebee opted for terror, with just a hint of arousal.  
T'Parief spotted Fifebee. He stopped and turned slowly to look down at her.  
"Be very, very quiet," he rumbled, "I'm hunting rabbit!"  
"Hey Mac!" called Jall, "over here!"  
"Ah-hah! I have caught you, you vermin!" T'Parief hollered. He brought up his water gun and started shooting at Jall, shouting, "Bang! Bang!"  
Jall ducked around the corner. T'Parief bolted after him. Just before he reached the corner, Jall stuck his foot out. T'Parief stumbled forward and hit the floor with a crash. He pulled himself off the floor and chased after Jall. Fifebee could see marks in the floor from the spikes T'Parief was wearing.  
There were a few moments of silence.  
That was completely illogical, voiced Spock.  
There was an overwhelming response from the other personalities, boiling down to: NO S**T, SHERLOCK!  
Fifebee shook her head and continued towards the Mess Hall. She barely noticed a Benzite Ensign drawing smiley faces on the bulkheads.  
Are we there yet? asked the personality of Jadzia Dax.  
"Don't start with me!" Fifebee snapped out loud.  
You know, said Katheryn Janeway, this reminds me of an experience I had on the El-Batani-  
This is taking too long! snapped Jadzia You're walking too slow! I really think you should let me drive!  
"You may not 'drive'! This is MY body. You're just a personality in my database that, for some reason, is being much more assertive than it should be!"  
"Well that was pretty f**king rude!" this time Jadzia's voice came right from Fifebee's mouth.  
"Stop that!" Fifebee said. She stumbled into the wall as Jadzia took control of her legs as well.  
"Hmmm….the Defiant was much more fun to pilot, but I guess this will do! Now where can I get a good Raktagino?"  
"This," Fifebee said with cold rage, "is a HOLOGRAPHIC body! It can't eat!"  
"Your loss!"  
Fifebee finally wrestled control of her body from the errant personality.  
"Now, the rest of you better not get any ideas! Shut up and behave so I can figure out what's going on!"  
Fifebee marched into the Mess Hall and stopped dead in her tracks.  
Crewman Rookes was in the kitchen behind the service window. He was working over an assortment of pots and pans, slicing vegetables and stirring sauces  
Ohhh! squealed Jadzia, Can we get a closer look!  
Fifebee's retort was interrupted by Rookes.  
"Welcome one, welcome all! I am Richard Rosurke, award winning Naked Chef for 2349! Today, I will prepare my famous Chicken a la Bolia! Ah, I see our guest of honor has arrived! Please, take a seat! Dinner will be ready shortly!"  
"I think I better pass," Fifebee said, edging towards the door.  
"You can't resist a feast like this!" Rookes said with a grin. He grabbed a set of tongs, holding up a chunk of what was once, perhaps, chicken. It was now nothing but a blackened, shriveled lump of charcoal. He started to step around the counter.  
RUN!  
Fifebee bolted out the door and down the corridor.

She came to a stop near the entrance to Unbalanced Equations. Her head was pounding. She could feel each throb of pain like a hammer blow.  
"Computer," she accused, "you told me Captain Stafford was in the Mess Hall!"  
"He was," the computer said defensively, "but he left. You know, that reminds me of the time…"  
Fifebee sighed. She had already tried to solicit help from Noonan and the night shift crew. She knew T'Parief and Jall were all out of the question. She had to track down Stafford, Jeffery or Yanick, and it didn't look like the computer was going to be much help.  
Your loyalty is to your Captain, voiced Spock, find him, and all will be well.  
The Captain's a schmuck! snapped Jadzia, You can do this on your own, honey. Or better yet, figure out where that hunky tactical officer went. He looks like he'd be good for a roll in the sack!  
I've seen worse, admitted Tilleran.  
Disgusting! snarled P'Tang, If you think for a moment that I would stand by and allow such a perverse union-  
It's a lady's body you're in now, big guy, voiced Christine, better get used to it!  
NEVER!  
Will you people keep it down! voiced one of the other thousands of personalities in Fifebee's database, Some of us are trying to get some sleep!  
This argument is most illogical-  
Right, and expecting the Captain to fix everything makes perfect sense? He's probably wandering around somewhere, convinced he's a famous ballroom dancer or something!  
SILENCE! roared Fifebee. The voices cut out. Fifebee opened her eyes, and to her surprise found herself sprawled on the corridor floor.  
"This is NOT good," she muttered as she pulled herself to her feet.  
They make a lot of racket sometimes, don't they came a calmer, more reasonable voice..  
You're not helping! sad Fifebee.  
Maybe not. But I'm used to this kind of situation.  
Fifebee queried her database for information on this personality.  
Jaroch. Former science officer of the U.S.S. Secondprize, promoted to ship's captain. Yynsian, a species that truly experiences reincarnation. Thank God my programmer didn't include the rest of your lives!  
Indeed. But feel free to draw on my experience if you need it.  
Jaroch was drowned out by a clamor of shouting from the other personalities.  
DO YOU MIND?  
What are you trying to do? Kill us?  
TRAITOR!  
Fifebee quickly accessed Jaroch's personality and found a simple Yynsian exercise for controlling past lives: Focus hard on putting the unwanted voices out of your mind. Control them.  
Looked simple enough.  
She focused…concentrated. She could feel something happening; the personalities were being forced out of her conscious mind, back into the depths of her database where they belonged. Almost there….

Deep in the holographic memory core, circuits were overloading. Code was becoming scrambled, data misplaced. At the heart of the processing unit assigned to Fifebee's program was a bio-neural gel-pack. Primarily used to improve the efficiency of the program, it was now being influenced by the same force that was affecting the brains of the crew. Really bad things started to happen….

Fifebee still stood in the corridor outside the lounge. Her eyes were closed and sweat was beading on her forehead. She could sense that victory was within her reach.  
Utter chaos. Data feeds and command pathways dissolved into a whirlwind of scrambled information. Where once a single young hologram had stood in the corridor, a dozen suddenly appeared.  
The freed personalities exchanged glances, let out a cheer and bolted down the corridor, leaving Fifebee passed out on the deck.

Captain Stafford wandered the corridors, searching for the woman of his dreams. A beautiful, perfect woman with an incredible body and a mind to match. With no awareness of where he was, he stumbled through the door to Sickbay and into paradise.  
3 biobeds had been pushed together, forming one large bed. Red silk sheets had been spread over the surface, and over a dozen deep red pillows were piled at one end. Spread over the sheets, wearing red lingerie and clutching a rose between her teeth was Dr. Noel Wowryk.  
"I've been waiting for you," she whispered.  
"And I've been searching for you!" said Stafford as he glided to the bed. He took Wowryk's hand and gently kissed her knuckles, "You are beautiful! You are perfect! Marry me, my darling!"  
"Oh, yes!" gasped Wowryk. She grabbed Stafford by the collar of his tunic and pulled him towards her, then kissed him deeply on the mouth.

Fifebee awoke to a silence unlike anything she had experienced before. There were no voices! Yes! She'd done it! She quickly moved to flag the Jaroch Personality Database as containing useful information, only to find it missing. She frowned, and performed a self-diagnostic. The Dax, Spock, Tilleran, Chapel and P'Tang personalities were also missing. In fact, all or her most powerful (and useful) personalities were gone!  
"Oh dear," Fifebee said aloud.  
"You've got that right!" came Jaroch's voice.  
Fifebee turned to find herself face to face with a slim Yynsian male.  
"What are you doing out here?" she asked.  
"It would appear that the Yynsian techniques for controlling past lives don't work very well on holograms," he said, almost apologetically.  
"What has happened?"  
"One minute you were working to push us all back, next thing I know we're all standing in the corridor. All the others took off."  
"This is most unfortunate," Fifebee said, monotone, "I must work to regain these missing personalities and to assist the crew in overcoming the cause of their irrational behavior."  
Jaroch frowned, "You're really sounding Vulcan now,"  
"This database contains 156 Vulcan scientists," Fifebee stated flatly.  
"What?"  
"I mean," Fifebee shook her head, "MY database contains 156 Vulcans, Well, 155 now that one of them is running amok."  
"Are you feeling all right?"  
"No," Fifebee said, "I feel…empty. Incomplete. Emotional reactions to external stimuli have been dampened. Variations in vocal pattern have decreased to 19 percent. Personality subroutine database is 47% complete."  
"Your personality was fragmented when the other took off," Jaroch said, mostly to himself, "See if you can reconstruct your personality database,"  
"Initiating reconstruction. Reconstruction complete. Personality subroutine database 79% complete,"  
"Stop talking like a computer! Um, re-initialize vocal subroutines!"  
Fifebee shook her head again.  
"I feel much better now, thank you," Her voice was still monotone, but didn't sound nearly as dead as it did before.  
"All right, back on track!" said Jaroch, "I suggest you resolve whatever problem the crew is having, then they can help you out."  
"I concur. We may as well start here," Fifebee stepped into Unbalanced Equations.  
Ensign Yanick and Steven were seated at one of the round tables. The other seats were occupied by Yanick's collection of stuffed animals including a bear, a horse, a cow, a targ and a dog. Among others. A blue teapot sat on the table and cups had been placed in front of each chair.  
"Another spot of tea, Mr. Puppy?" Yanick asked. She poured tea into the dog's cup, "I do say Steven, it's a lovely afternoon for tea."  
"Oh, I quite concur!" Steve said, a huge smile plastered on his face. The Spock personality was standing over Steven's shoulder.  
"You are both behaving in a most illogical fashion!" he insisted, "These cloth animals cannot possibly consume this beverage!"  
"Shut up, meany-pants!" Yanick said. Her voice was that of a little girl. "Go pick on somebody your own size!"  
"I fail to understand how my pants are relevant to this issue,"  
"You!" Jaroch snapped.  
The Spock personality saw Fifebee and Jaroch and quickly rushed out the far door. Fifebee walked over to Yanick.  
"Ensign, have you seen the Captain?"  
"No I haven't, Ms. Fifebee. Would you like to join our tea party?"  
Fifebee frowned, confused. She turned to Jaroch.  
"Do I want to join her tea party?"  
"I really don't think we have time,"  
"Oh, OK. I'm sorry Ensign, I can't play right now. I have to go look for the Captain!"  
"OK! Bye!" Yanick flashed a big grin and waved. Fifebee waved back.  
Fifebe and Jaroch walked out into the corridor. Jaroch tapped at a wall panel and accessed the holographic memory core.  
"Your program is still degrading," he said, "Darned if I know why. It looks like something is disrupting the memory core's gel pack."  
"Can you, um, um" Fifebee twirled her finger as she hunted for the phrase she wanted, "Oh! Transfer my program to regular, isolinear circuitry?"  
"If I transfer your program while your personality database is this badly fragmented, it could corrupt your whole personality matrix."  
"And that's not good?" Fifebee asked.  
"No! Now pull yourself together so we can get to work!"

Fifebee and Jaroch walked down the halls, Fifebee fighting to remain coherent. Her vision swam, and she had to focus just to keep her mind functioning. A human in her condition would have been described as seriously stoned. They entered Sickbay, hoping to find Dr. Wowryk.  
They found her, all right. Right underneath Captain Stafford. The two were kissing furiously, Wowryk's arms wrapped around Stafford's neck as he pressed his body against hers. Fifebee was aware enough to realize that the Captain was still wearing his pants, thank God.  
"Captain!" Fifebee shouted, "You must get off her! For your own good!"  
Stafford ignored her.  
Fifebee fought to think of some way to separate the two of them.  
"Dr. Wowryk!" she shouted, " THERE IS A MAN ON TOP OF YOU!"  
No response.  
"This situation has become more urgent," Fifebee told Jaroch, "We need to solve this problem before the Captain…um…"  
"Operates on your Doctor?'  
"Yes. If he…"  
"Breaches her warp core?"  
"Thank you. If that happens, she will kill him."  
"I think we have more pressing concerns than your doctor's virginity!"  
"The Captain's life is at stake!" Fifebee shouted, "We're going to have to solve this crisis on our own!"  
"Whatever you say. You're the 'dominate personality' here!" Jaroch winked.

Fifebee and Jaroch rushed into Main Engineering. After all the bizarre things they had seen, they barely noticed Jeffery marching around the warp core, naked as a jay-bird, playing his bagpipes as his Nicondii engineers followed him around, staying perfectly in step.  
"Let us add that to the list of things I really did not need to see," she said to Jaroch.  
"Or hear," Jaroch said as he covered his ears, "J'Ter on a rampage never made such horrible racket!"  
"Lets….um…get to work," Fifebee said, rubbing her temples.  
Jaroch took her by the shoulders.  
"Just hold on!"  
Fifebee nodded. The horrible screeching noises emanating from Jeffery's bagpipes continued.  
"One moment," Fifebee reached under one of the panels and retrieved an emergency phaser. Setting it to stun, she fired at Jeffery, who collapsed to the deck. The Nicondii continued to march, stepping over their fallen leader.  
"Perhaps now I can concentrate," Fifebee said.  
Jaroch and Fifebee tapped at the panels, accessing internal sensors and scanning for anomalies.  
"I'm picking up an energy surge," Fifebee reported, "I can't identify it,"  
"It looks familiar," Jaroch said.  
"It does. I just can't remember what it is!"  
"Concentrate!"  
"I can't!" Fifebee shouted.  
"You've got to! The entire crew, as well as the Captain's manhood, is at stake! You've got to figure out what this is!"  
"No!" Fifebee exclaimed in realization, "I don't! It doesn't matter! It's coming from that derelict ship!"  
"I knew we should have analyzed that wreck right away," muttered Jaroch.  
"Computer! Analyze the energy readings from the alien ship! Do they match anything on record?"  
"Energy?" asked the computer, "who cares about energy! You know what I care about? Horses. Horses? Horses don't talk back, or make silly demands, or ask dumb questions all day. I really love horses…."  
"To hell with this!" grumbled Fifebee.  
"What are you doing?" asked Jaroch.  
"Arming the phasers."  
"If you destroy that ship, we'll lose the chance to learn valuable information about our adversary!"  
"I don't care! The insanity must stop!" Fifebee fired phasers at the alien ship. The ship was already seriously damaged. The phaser shot shattered it like a cheap mirror. Bits of debris bounced off the Silverado's hull.  
"The energy field is dissipating," Jaroch reported.  
"I can tell," Fifebee said. Her mind was already clearing as the core gel-pack stabilized, "Let's go get the Captain!"

Jaroch and Fifebee exited the turbolift and jogged down the corridor. They passed several crewmen. Some were still under the effects of the energy field, others were returning to normal. Coming around the corridor, they came across a horrific sight: T'Parief and the Jadzia Dax personality on the corridor floor. Both were, to put it politely, out of uniform.  
"I didn't think that position was physically possible," Jarock said, feeling sick to his stomach.  
"Let's take a detour," Fifebee said.

Stafford became aware that he wasn't in his bed anymore. He was in a bed, just not his own. He was also aware that there was a firm but soft female body beneath him.  
"Take me, my love," gasped Dr. Wowryk's voice.  
Stafford opened his eyes.  
"AHHHHHH!" he screamed. Dr. Wowryk's eyes opened.  
"AHHHHHH!" she screamed. They both looked down. The Little Captain was inches away from conquering new territory.  
"YOU DISGUSTING, PERVERTED, HEATHEN-" Wowryk stuttered through her various insults. Stafford did the only prudent thing he could think of. He jumped off the bed, grabbed his cloths and bolted for the nearest exit.

The doors to Sickbay opened as Fifebee and Jaroch approached. Stafford rushed out, crashing into Jaroch.  
"Run!" he shouted, "She's on a rampage!"  
"Captain," Fifebee asked, "Did you violate the doctor?"  
"No! I mean, I was about to! But I didn't-I mean, I wouldn't-WHAT HAPPENED?"  
"I don't know. Captain, I need help!"  
"Huh? With what?" he turned to Jaroch, "And who the hell are you?"

Captain's Log, Supplemental:  
"What a night. It seems that when we disabled the attacking ship, we damaged its cortical induction generator. A similar device sent this crew into Dreamland some time ago, and was also present on the first alien ship we encountered. Anyway, once we damaged this one, it's energy field started influencing our brainwaves, sending us into fugue states and distorting our personalities. SERIOUSLY DISTORTING! I mean, I'd have to be severely twisted to even THINK about risking physical contact with Dr. Wowryk!  
"With the destruction of the alien ship, Lieutenant Fifebee eliminated the field and saved the good Doctor's virginity, not to mention my life! Oh yeah, and everybody else's too. Unfortunately, the encounter has caused the Lieutenant to go…all to pieces."

"Ok," Jall said, "I've heard some stinkers, but that was just a really BAD pun!"  
The senior crew was gathered in the conference lounge, as were the Jaroch and Dax personalities. Jaroch had opted for a seat at the table, while Dax remained wrapped around T'Parief, despite his repeated attempts to remover her. Yanick was glaring at Dax from across the table. Wowryk was sitting as far away from Stafford as possible, and had insisted on splattering him with Holy Water before she'd come anywhere near him.  
"What I don't get," Stafford said, "is why Fifebee, Noonan and the computer were affected! They were immune last time."  
"The bio-neural gel-packs involved in running Fifebee's program and the computers personality profile were affected by the field," said Dr. Wowryk, "Last time, the field was directed at humanoid nervous systems. This one was more general. And did I mention that the Captain is a complete PIG!?"  
"I'm surprised a ship this old has bio-neural circuitry," said Stafford, "and I'm not a pig any more than you're a power-hungry monarch!"  
"Oink-oink," said Jall under his breath. Noonan chuckled.  
"We don't have bio-neural circuitry," said Jeffery, "not really, anyway. Our computer core is state-of-the art, even if the software isn't, and many of the processing units use gel-packs. The rest of the ship's circuitry is the old-style isolinear stuff. Except for a couple secondary processing centers here and there."  
"So the part of the computer that thinks it's my mother is running on a glob of lab-cultured brain cells? I really don't like the implications of that!"  
"What about Noonan?" asked Jall, "Why was Mr. Perfection affected this time?'  
"Who knows?" said Wowryk, 'There's nothing on his medical file to indicate why he wasn't affected the first time!"  
"Moving on," Noonan said, "We still have a problem. Several of Fifebee's personalities are funning free on the ship."  
"Right," Stafford said, "how do we get them back?"  
"You mean," Jall said, "how do we put Humpty Dumpty back together again?" He looked over at Fifebee and chuckled. Dax giggled hysterically.  
Fifebee stared blankly back at him.  
"Geez," Jall said, "where's your sense of humour?"  
"Ah think it's sitting on T'Parief's lap," said Jeffery.  
"So how do we put her back together?" asked Stafford.  
"She split apart trying a Yynsian exercise for controlling past lives," said Jaroch, "I suggest that she can remerge them with a strong mental effort."  
"Well great, let's test it out!"  
"We need a subject,"  
Yanick pointed at Dax. "How about HER!"  
"No!" Dax objected. She turned to T'Parief, "You won't let them hurt me…after all, I'm the best you're ever going to have," she looked down her nose at Yanick.  
"That's it!" roared T'Parief. He wrapped his arms around Dax, pinning her in place, "Here you go! Try now!"  
Fifebee walked over to Dax.  
"What shall I do?" she asked dully.  
"Concentrate on her," Jaroch said, "you want to make her a part of you again! Focus!"  
Fifebee's eyes bore into Dax's. She stepped closer, then tentatively placed her fingertips against Dax's temples. With a shriek Dax appeared to liquefy then flow in Fifebee. Fifebee took a deep breath.  
"That feels much better," she said. She turned to Yanick, "and by the way, you have much to look forward to!" she winked. T'Parief and Yanick blushed.  
"One down," Jaroch said, "14 to go!"  
The conference room doors swished open and Counselor Yvonnokoff stepped purposefully into the room, her ever-present padd in her hands.  
"Keptain, I hev been reviewing ze various strange behaviors of the crew and hev come to several conclusions zat I zink you vill find most interesting," she said.  
"Um, ok," Stafford said, warily, "what have you got?"  
"Based on ze activites of yourself, ze good doctor, Mr. T'Parief and several ozer crewmembers and officers, I hev come to ze conclusion zat zis crew is experiencing severe cases of sexual frustration and sexual tension. I zink zat ze healty zing to do vould be to sit down and discuss zese feelings in an open and frank manner."  
Stafford and the senior crew exchanged panicked glances.  
"Meeting adjourned!" Stafford cried as he led the stampede for the door.  
"Honestly," muttered Yvonnokoff as she stood alone in the empty room, "vhy do I even bother?"

Fifebee, Jaroch and T'Parief marched though the corridors of Deck 36 at the very bottom of the ship. T'Parief was carrying a tricorder programmed to home in on holographic signals.  
"He should be right around this corner," T'Parief murmured.  
"There!" snapped Fifebee.  
Down the corridor, P'Tang started at the sound of her voice and spun around to face them. He carried a massive Klingon disruptor rifle.  
"I may be a mere scientist," he roared, "but you will not take me down easily!"  
Fifebee walked calmly down the corridor. P'Tang fired at her repeatedly, but the shots passed right through her. She reached out and clamped her hands on his head and focused. Like Dax, he vanished as he was re-absorbed by Fifebee's program.

The rest was a mop-up operation. T'Parief would track the wayward holograms, Jaroch and Fifebee would corner them and then Fifebee would reabsorb them, regaining more and more of her own identity and personality with each one. Finally, only one remained.  
Jeffery, Fifebee, Stafford and Jaroch were gathered in Science Lab 1.  
"Well," Jaroch said, "I guess it's my turn."  
"It is," Fifebee said, "thank you so much for your help. I couldn't have done it without you."  
"Yeah," Stafford said, "you saved the ship, you saved Wowryk's virginity, and you saved me from making a really BIG mistake!" he reached out and shook Jaroch's hand, "Thanks big time!"  
"Glad to have helped,"  
"Are ye sure we have to get rid of him?" Jeffery asked, "It seems like he'd be useful…"  
"We're not 'getting rid of him,' Fifebee said coldly, "we're returning him to his proper place in my program. His knowledge and experience will remain a part of me, and will continue to serve this ship and it's crew of…unique individuals."  
"Remember," Jaroch said to Jeffery, "you'll want to reinitialize her program and run all the diagnostic tools."  
"Yeah, Ah got it."  
"And you know," Jaroch lowered his voice, "some topical cream would work wonders with that rash on your-"  
"THANK ye!" Jeffery cut him off.  
Jaroch stepped up to Fifebee.  
"Let's do this," he said.  
"Indeed." Fifebee stepped closer to him, hesitated a moment, then wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace, which he returned briefly before vanishing.  
"Neat trick," Jeffery said.  
"He's been re-integrated into my program,"  
"Cool. Let's get ye fixed up then."  
"Please."

Captain's Log, Supplemental:  
"Can you supplement a supplement? Never mind."  
"Fifebee's personalities have been successfully re-integrated and Mr. Jeffery tells me she's good as new. The rest of us are recovering from our stressful night by taking the day off."  
"I've entered a commendation for Lieutenant Fifebee for exceptional service for her actions in this matter."

"Am I missing something?" Stafford asked Noonan and Jeffery as they sat in Unbalanced Equations.  
"Like what?" Jeffery asked.  
"He cheats on her and has sex with a holographic floozy, and less than 12 hours later they're sitting together having a latte, as if nothing ever happened?" Stafford nodded towards the corner where Yanick and T'Parief were sitting very close.  
"She's still not exactly happy with him," Noonan pointed out.  
"How can you tell?"  
"They're not holding hands, and she's not giggling much" Noonan pointed out.  
"Ah say he's got it lucky," Jeffery said, "Noel's been hiding in her quarters every chance she gets. She won't leave without wearing her duranium chastity belt!"  
"So what?" muttered Stafford, "You weren't getting any before, so nothing's changed!"  
"Ye've gotta tell me though…is it as nice as I imagine?"  
"What?"  
"Y'know…her…"  
"Oh come on! I don't remember fooling around with her any more than you remember marching naked around Engineering! Once I woke up, I barely had time for a glace before running for my life!"  
"Well, how about if Ah draw a picture, and ye tell me where Ah'm wrong…"  
"No!"

Fifebee chuckled to herself as she overheard Jeffery and Stafford. To herself, she marveled. Her personalities were back under control…rather than shouting and arguing, she could just feel the gentle guidance of the highly experienced but once again non-sentient minds.  
Fifebee had come to Unbalanced Equations with the intention of re-establishing social connections with her colleagues. Once she arrived, she realized that she had done quite enough 'socializing' over the past day, and that peaceful contemplation would be a nice change.  
"Excuse me, Lieutenant?" came a voice from behind her.  
Fifebee turned to see a young Argelian standing behind her.  
"Yes, Ensign, how may I help you?" Fifebee worked to adopt a friendly tone.  
"I, uh, just wanted to thank you. Y'know, for saving the ship and all."  
"I was just doing my job. But you're welcome."  
"Anyway, the guys and I were wondering if we could get you a drink…"  
"I don't drink, but I'd be happy to join you." Fifebee stood and followed the young man to his table, where several other junior officers were seated.

"Looks like somebody's making some new friends," Noonan said with a smile.  
"Look, ye can tell me, I'm yer best friend!" Jeffery whined.  
"I said I don't remember!" Stafford snapped.  
"Come on, where they round, or more pointed?"  
"For the last time, I don't want to think about what your slave-driving mistress looks like naked!"  
"Please?"  
"NO!"  
"Did she have abs?"  
"I said drop it!"

End

"Do her freckles go all the way down?"  
"I said DROP IT, for f**k sake!"

End

Next: The crew tries to deal with being trapped in deep space while Stafford confronts a terrifying new adversary….


	10. 10 - Are We Having Fun Yet?

Star Traks: Silverado

1.10, Are We Having Fun Yet?

Chief Engineer Simon Jeffery sat in his office adjacent to Main Engineering, tapping angrily at his terminal. The U.S.S. Silverado had been stuck in the middle of nowhere for two weeks now due to a damaged navigation deflector. Without the deflector, travel at even a fraction of light-speed could send space junk flying through the hull like bullets through cheese. Unfortunately, the damaged components couldn't be replicated and had to be shipped out to them from the nearest station, a trip that took several weeks. Why they didn't have a spare on board was beyond Jeffery.  
Typically, a starship with a damaged navigational deflector could use its defensive shields as a substitute. In an emergency anyway. But defensive shields were meant to deflect weapons fire, not space junk. Hitting a chuck of rock while traveling faster then the speed of light would punch a good sized hole through any shield, which was where the high-powered deflector beam in the navigational deflector came in very handy.  
Jeffery established a connection to the Galactic Express Shipping Company. Starfleet was pretty busy these days, so they were outsourcing some of their shipping to private companies. Galactic Express had a great record, with hardly any customer complaints.

THANK YOU FOR USING GALACTIC EXPRESS. FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE, WE HAVE AUTOMATED OUR PACKAGE TRACKING SYSTEMS. PLEASE ENTER YOUR TRACKING NUMBER TO LOCATE YOUR PACKAGE.

"Tracking number?" muttered Jeffery. "Oh! Right!" He started rummaging through the drawers of his desk, coming up with padd after padd. There was a memo from Captain Stafford, again requesting that additional personnel be assigned to holodeck installation. A memo from Dr. Wowryk, ordering him to accompany her to dinner tonight. Rough draft of a love letter to Dr. Wowryk. Pictures of Dr. Wowryk. Copy of an article Dr. Wowryk had written for the Starfleet Medical Journal. Copy of the Christian Bible, provided at a nominal charge by Dr. Wowryk.  
Jeffery continued stacking padds on his desk as he rummaged through his drawers. Finally, he found the tracking number.  
"Ok," he muttered, "let's see…"

SKDJSLDJEKCH3 8R63947EJFDNASE8O4 OUSFSLKNFS08 HOI32UASDF08H LSDFINA SDFOISDOIY FDG987B4 WO87GASD8FVADSSD987 3Q4BIU SYDFGIU 347696EUY BSDFG OIYHERLK DSUBODSIU SDFGOIBSDFG

"Oops, that was supposed to be an 'H', not a 'G'.  
Jeffery was focused so hard on typing in the absurdly long code he didn't notice a soft creaking in his office ceiling.  
With a rain of insulation, wires and various metal bits, Ensign Frat Naketh fell through the ceiling, landing with a loud THUD on Jeffery's desk. Padds skittered across the floor while a cloud of dust wafted down.  
Jeffery blinked in surprise.  
"Is there something ye need, Ensign?" he asked, surprisingly calm.  
"How about a chiropractor!" gasped Frat as he struggled to sit up.  
"What the hell just happened?"  
"I was, ouch, that is REALLY going to hurt tomorrow," Frat winced, "I was between decks, tracing some faulty circuitry. I guess I found a rotten spot in the floor," he looked up, "or ceiling, I suppose."  
"Well, ye've made a lovely mess of me office now, haven't ye?" Jeffery said, annoyed, "Jeffery to maintenance, cleanup in my office!"  
"Is this a dry-vac engineering mess kinda cleanup," came the annoyed voice from maintenance, "or did your frigid girlfriend finally give you some loving and you need the wet-vac kinda cleanup?"  
"Belay that!" Jeffery snapped, "Dry-vac! And Ah'm telling her ye said that!"  
The voice became very nervous, "Please, sir, don't do that!"  
"Have this mess cleaned up in 15 minutes and Ah might change my mind."  
"Yes sir, on my way!"  
Jeffery settled back in his chair.  
"Once yer done with the circuitry ye can do something about the gaping hole in my ceiling!" Jeffery said angrily, "Dismissed!"  
"Later, sir," Frat said. He turned to leave, stepping on a padd as he did so. The padd shot out from under his foot, sending Frat sprawling to floor. The padd shot out the door, bounced off a wall and skittered onto a nearby console, knocking a cup of coffee into an open access port. The console started to sizzle as hot liquid seeped through unprotected circuits. Sparks flew from the console and a 4 foot high tongue of flame shot out, setting fire to the padded chair sitting nearby. The fire suppression system kicked in, showering the entire compartment in flame retardant foam. (Most modern ships had force-field containment systems for fire, but as we all know, Silverado hasn't reached 'modern' status yet!)  
"Warning," announced the computer, "the transporter sensor control system is experiencing severe malfunctions. Use of transporters prior to repair can lead to mutation, pattern degradation and/or forming." The computer abandoned its pre-programmed monotone. "And if you two don't quit horsing around I'm going to bang both your heads together!"  
"Oh f**k me!" Jeffery yelled as he stepped out to assess the damage. The transporter control circuits in the panel were seriously fried. Like he needed more repairs stacking onto his already enormous workload. "Nice f**king move!"  
"Hey," Frat objected, "it wasn't MY fault!"  
"Nay, ye just kicked the padd that dumped the coffee that fried the circuits that started the fire THAT KILLED THE CAT THAT ATE THE RAT THAT LIVED ON THE SHIP THAT SIMON BUILT!"  
Frat gave Jeffery a funny look. "Are you feeling OK? Maybe you should take some time off…"  
"And do what, exactly? Twiddle my thumbs in my quarters? Play video games until my eyeballs blister? Take part in the riveting Twister competition taking place in the lounge?"  
"Ok, ok, I get your point! Geez, I'm just trying to help!"  
"Well thank ye, but if ye could call everybody back to Engineering to start cleaning up this mess, that would be all the help Ah need!"  
"And what will you be doing, sir?" asked Frat.  
Jeffery looked around at the drenched compartment. The foam coating every surface made it look like two feet of snow had fallen. The warp core thrummed away, oblivious to the fact that it was now the centerpiece of a Starfleet Christmas Village.  
"Ah'll be on the bridge, trying to figure out where my parts are!"  
"I'm sure the good Doctor would be willing to help you find them," Frat quipped, "Well, actually, no. She wouldn't be!"  
"Have fun with your new double-shift today, Naketh!" Jeffery snapped on his way out.  
"Crap."

Jeffery stalked through the corridors on his way to the bridge. As the turbolift passed Deck 8, Madame Schoonbaert and a gaggle of children crowded on board.  
"Bonjour, Monsieur Jeffery," she said with a grin, "'Ave you met the Grade 4 class?"  
"No," Jeffery grumbled, "Ah haven't had the 'pleasure' of meeting the little bast….um, angels."  
"Well," Schoonbaert beamed, "children, this is Lt. Cmdr. Simon Jeffery. He fixes the ship's engines!"  
One of the kids pointed.  
"My mommy sez it's his fault we're stuck out here!"  
"Well, your mommy is a f**king skank!" snapped Jeffery. The little boy jumped back.  
Madame Schoonbaert glared daggers at Jeffery as the turbolift doors opened and she led the children out.  
"Like Ah have time for this BS!" Jeffery called out.

Chris Stafford sat in his ready room, reading 'The Nephew of the Sister of the Cousin of the Great-Great-Granddaughter of the Queen of the Damned' by Anne Rice. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he kept getting the weirdest feeling of déjà vu reading about Anne's vampires. He'd been working on the book for some time, but frequent interruptions were making it really hard for him to finish it.  
The doors to his ready room snapped open and Trish Yanick stormed in and collapsed on the couch.  
"Ever get the feeling you're stuck in a rut, and that if you don't do something to move forward you're gonna go crazy?" she asked.  
Stafford tossed his book on the desk.  
"Every time I look out the f**king window!" he complained, "But our parts have to come in sooner or later, then we'll be back on the go."  
"Um, I was talking about me and T'Parief!" Yanick said.  
Stafford frowned. "Oh. Stuck in a rut? You've only been dating for a couple weeks!"  
"I know!" Yanick whined, "but we haven't done anything new in days! If we don't find something to do soon I'm going to have to start having sex with him! And then Noel will kill him! Unless she's in a good mood. She might just neuter him instead."  
Stafford rubbed his temples.  
"Look, Trish, first off, everybody on this ship is bored silly. It's not you, it's not your relationship, it's a burnt-out deflector and a complete lack of holodecks! Second, anything involving the words 'sex' and 'T'Parief' in the same sentence is NOT something I need to know about."  
Yanick gave Stafford an evil grin. "So after we do it, I shouldn't tell you about how he-"  
"Stop right there!" Stafford interrupted.  
"I just need to find something fun for us to do!" Yanick said.  
"I'm sure you'll think of something," Stafford said. "What did you do when you were a teenager?"  
"Cow tipping, horseback riding, beer bashes, barn dances, getting seriously drunk at the bar, swimming…pretty much all stuff that we've already done or that you need a holodeck for!"  
"Oh come on," Stafford said, "you just need to improvise! Figure out how to do it without the holodeck."  
Yanick thought for a moment.  
"Oh! I've got it! Wait, no. We don't have any horses onboard," she frowned, then jumped up, "Oh! Oh! Wait…no." She started pacing.  
Stafford reached for his book. "Well, when you think of something, let me know."  
"Are you hinting that I have to leave?" Trish asked. Tears started forming in her eyes and her lower lip started to tremble.  
"Yes," Stafford said, "I'm halfway through this book and I'm having trouble putting it down. And don't try the fake crying routine on me, Noonan already warned me about that little trick."  
Trish giggled, "Crap! He didn't tell T'Parief, did he?"  
"Nope."  
"Sweet!"  
"Now go away and let me read my book!" Stafford said, not unkindly.  
"Yessir, Captain Grouch!" answered Yanick in the same tone.  
Stafford gave a sigh of relief. He walked over to the replicator.  
"Cheese and crackers with a glass of tropical blend fruit juice."  
"We've got 241 698 varieties of cheese on file, Chris," replied the computer, "We've also got 586 476 varieties of crackers and 2 936 192 different blends of fruit juice."  
"You're the one who thinks you're my mother!" Stafford snapped, "shouldn't you know what kinds I like?"  
"Well pardon me!" the computer snapped back, "If you're going to be that way, I just might make you fix your own snack!" The lights on the replicator shut off.  
"No! Wait! I'm sorry!" Stafford whined.  
"Well, all right," The replicator powered up again, then hummed. "Breton crackers, mild Cheddar cheese and V8 Tropical Splash."  
"You're the best, Mom!" Stafford said, "Computer! I mean computer!"  
"I'm wearing you down, sweetie!"  
"I already have a mother! One's enough!"  
Stafford carries his snack to his desk, leaned back in his chair and picked up his book.  
BE-DEEP! His door chime rang.  
Crap! thought Stafford, I'll just pretend I'm not here!  
BE-DEEP!  
They'll go away soon…  
BE-DEEP!  
"C'mon Chris!" came Jeffery's voice, "Ah know yer in there! The computer said so!"  
"Oh fine!" snapped Stafford. The doors opened, and Jeffery walked in. He was covered with dust and bits of insulation were stuck in his hair. Stafford threw his book down on the desk. "What do you want?"  
"Well somebody's in a bit of snit!" snapped Jeffery, "Especially when ye consider that nobody's dropped anybody through his ceiling or drenched his workplace in 2 feet of foam!"  
"Having a bad day?" asked Stafford.  
"What gave ye that idea?"  
"Well, I just have no f**king idea! So how some you're up here bugging me rather than down there fixing the problem?"  
"Because, oh Mr. High-and-Mighty, Ah was trying to track our parts before the whole mess happened. Ah thought ye might want to help me with that so ye can see where everything is!"  
"Ah. Right. That actually sounds like a decent idea." Stafford said, grudgingly. He frowned. "But snap out of that angry mood before I bury my boot up your ass!"  
"All right then," Jeffery took a deep breath, calmed himself and sat across from Stafford, pulling the terminal towards him. He connected to Galactic Express and punched in the tracking number.  
"Let's see…" muttered Jeffery, "Two quantum flux oscillators, shipped from Altair 6 to Starbase 285 to Starbase 290 then out to Waystation."  
"Two?" asked Stafford, "I thought we just needed one."  
"Ah decided we should have a spare this time,"  
"Good plan!"  
"32 sections of size 3 plasma conduit, 45 EPS regulators, 5 EPS manifolds and 15 EPS taps. All manufactured at Starbase 290 and shipped to Waystation."  
"Can't we replicate that stuff?"  
"Aye. But I used our spare parts inventory instead, since we had to get a delivery anyway. No point wasting replicator power and material."  
"Oh,"  
"500 square feet of Intrepid-class carpet for Deck 11 and 200 square feet of Galaxy-class carpet for Deck 10. Shipped from Dillon's Supply Depot's manufacturing plant on Crocus 3 to…Waystation"  
"Are you ever going to fix that decorating problem?" Stafford asked.  
"Ah can do it before we start on the holodecks, if ye like!"  
"Never mind."  
"It looks like everything is here!" Jeffery said angrily, "Why's everything sitting at Waystation?"  
"Why don't you call Galactic Express and ask them?"  
"Yer the Captain…ye can call!"  
"Exactly. I'm the Captain. You call!"  
"Crap," Jeffery starting tapping on the terminal.  
"Thank you for calling Galactic Express!" came a pleasant, female voice; "If you would like to purchase services from Galactic Express, press 1. If you are inquiring on the status of your delivery, press 2. If you have a complaint regarding our service, press 3, and our special Andorian Complaints Specialists will visit you in the comfort of your own home."  
Jeffery and Stafford exchange a glance.  
"Let's stick with 2," Stafford said.  
"Yeah,"  
"You can check the status of your delivery using our convenient automated online system, accessible on subspace channel 28439. Press 1 to be transferred to this system. If you would like to consult on your order, press 2. If you have a problem with your order or wish to cancel, press 3 and our Andorian-"  
Stafford hit the '2' button.  
"Please hold. Your call may be recorded for quality and/or training purposes."  
Horribly annoying Spanish music began to play while a pastel pattern was displayed on the terminal.  
"How long is this gonna take?" asked Jeffery.  
"Shouldn't be long," replied Stafford.

10 minutes later:

"Got any twos?" Stafford asked.  
"Go fish," replied Jeffery, gesturing at the pile of cards in front of him.

10 more minutes later:

"No, I don't think Lt. Church was interested in you!" Stafford said, "And what do you care? She's still on the Exeter! You've got your own frigid companion now!"  
"She's not frigid!" objected Jeffery.  
"Right, and alligators don't bite!"  
"Oh yeah, and that Hermat you went home with on Kragnos VII was such a catch!"  
"Hey, nobody told me Hermats were a trans-gendered species!"  
"Aye! It was much more fun to watch ye find out the hard way!"

10 more minutes later:

Ensign Yanick sat at her post, scrolling through an article entitled "How to keep your man happy, OUTSIDE of bed". It had taken some time, but she had finally found an article on improving relationships that didn't involve sex! She was interrupted by loud shouts coming from the Captain's ready room.  
"Are ye daft! Ye think a pack of munchkins running around with wooden sticks is entertainment?"  
"OH COME ON! It was a hell of a lot better than watching a bunch of dwarves whine about jewelry for 9 hours!"  
"That movie was based on a classic!"  
"They both were!"  
"But mine was better!"  
"What are they going on about?" wondered Fifebee.  
"Who knows," replied Yanick, "everybody on board is going space-crazy."  
"Indeed."  
"I'm right!" shouted Stafford.  
"Nay, I'm right!"  
"I think we'll find out in a moment," commented Noonan.  
Seconds later, the door to the ready room opened and Stafford poked his head out.  
"What was the bigger movie craze," he asked, 'Harry Potter' or 'Lord of the Rings'?"  
The bridge crew exchanged glances.  
"Please leave us out of this," replied Fifebee.

30 more minutes later:

"Thank you for calling Galactic Express, my name is Cathy, how may I help you today?" A pleasant, female face was displayed on the screen.  
"ZZZzzzzzzz…" snored Jeffery. He had passed out on Stafford's couch. Stafford was snoozing in his chair.  
"Hello?" called Cathy. Stafford stirred but didn't wake.  
"Caller," Cathy said, reading from her script, "I am unable to hear you. If you can hear me, please call back at your convenience." She paused, and then repeated the message. Another pause, then:  
"Caller, I am still unable to hear you. If you can hear me, please call back at your convenience. I am now disconnecting this call."  
Stafford bolted awake.  
"WHAT? WAIT! NO!"  
click  
"AAARRRRRGGGHHH!"

1 hour later.

"Thank you for calling Galactic Express, my name is Cindy, how may I help you today?" Another pleasant, female face was displayed on the screen.  
"DON'T HANG UP! PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" wailed Stafford.  
"Please calm yourself, sir. I am here to assist you with all your shipping needs," replied Cindy in a confident tone.  
"We need to track a shipment," Jeffery piped in.  
"We do have a convenient, on-line-" Cindy started.  
"We've already tried that," Stafford cut her off, "We found out where everything is, but not why it's stuck there!"  
"Stuck there? Hmm. Shipments usually pass through checkpoints at a very rapid rate. May I please have your tracking number?"  
Jeffery read off the number.  
"Please hold," click  
"Whoever invented the hold button really needs to be shot!" muttered Stafford, "How did I end up on this call anyway, I told you to do it!"  
Cindy came back before Jeffery could retaliate.  
"Yes, Mr. Stafford, I see that-"  
"Captain Stafford," Stafford interrupted.  
"Mr. Stafford, I see that your items have been shipped to Waystation and are currently awaiting transport."  
"What do ye mean, 'awaiting transport'? snapped Jeffery, "We've been waiting for those parts for ages!"  
"As you are currently outside of Federation space, company policy states that only a Class 7 armed transport can make deliveries to your location. The next available Class 7 armed transport will reach Waystation in 2 weeks."  
"TWO WEEKS!" exploded Jeffery, "It'll take them at least that long to get from Waystation to us! We're stranded in the middle of nowhere, we've been attacked twice and ye think we can just sit here for 4 more weeks? What the hell are ye smokin'?"  
"Did I say two weeks?" Cindy smiled sweetly, "I meant 2 months."  
"YE F**KING B**CH!"  
"Simon! Down! Heel!" Stafford snapped.  
"I'm sorry about my engineer, ma'am," Stafford said, trying a charming smile, "he's a little overexcited. Now, about our parts-"  
"I'm sorry sir, but company policy states that only a Class 7 armed transport may depart Federation space, and the next available transport will be at Waystation in 2 months."  
"But we're stranded!" whined Stafford, "Look, can't we just get Waystation to send it on a Starfleet ship/"  
"I'm sorry Mr. Stafford, but that is against company policy,"  
"Can you divert another ship? Somebody's gotta be delivering SOMETHING nearby!"  
"I'm sorry Mr. Stafford, but that is against company policy,"  
"What if we send a runabout to retrieve them?"  
"I'm sorry Mr. Stafford, but that is against company policy,"  
"Then load the parts in a torpedo tube and blast them in this direction!"  
"I'm sorry Mr. Stafford, but that is against-"  
"I so don't care! We're stranded, we're going crazy, and we've got weird space aliens attacking us! We need those parts!"  
"If you have a complaint, I would be happy to transfer you to our Complaints Department. One of our Andorian Complaint Specialists would be more than happy to come to your home and eviscerate, I mean, help you solve the problem."  
Jeffery perked up from where he had been pouting.  
"Do ye think he could bring the parts with him?"  
"No!" snapped Stafford," Don't transfer me! I demand satisfaction! I want to talk to your supervisor! I want this problem fixed!"  
click Hold music began to play.  
"GOD DAMN THAT BITCH!" screamed Stafford, spittle spraying from his mouth.

The chronometer on the bridge struck 17:00 hours. The ship's bells rang, signaling the shift change. Ensign Yanick turned her station over to her relief and walked past the ready room door to the turbolift. She could still hear muffled shouting inside. T'Parief joined her in the turbolift.  
"Want to grab a bite to eat?" he asked.  
"Where?" Yanick asked, dejectedly.  
"Mess hall?"  
"No, I'm sick of that place."  
"Unbalanced Equations?"  
"We've eaten there all week," Yanick was paying little attention to T'Parief's suggestions. She was focusing on trying to find some kind of event to hold. She needed cheering up, badly!  
"Your quarters?" T'Parief asked.  
"No,"  
"My quarters?"  
"No,"  
"We could go to Sickbay and make wild, passionate love on the main bio-bed."  
"No," muttered Yanick, "Wait, what?"  
"You weren't paying attention to me!"  
"Yes, yes I was! Really! I was paying very close attention to every word you said! I honestly was! I'm just focusing on other things right now. I'm sorry you feel ignored, I really am!"  
"I see."  
There was silence in the turbolift.  
"You know dears," the computer said, "I can keep this thing running all day, but unless you make up your mind on where to go, you're going to be in here for a long time!"  
"Deck 5" Yanick said.

Stafford's head was resting on his desk as the horrible hold music continued to play. Jeffery had left, claiming he had better things to do than fight with power-mad corporations. Stafford again wondered how he had come to be the one sitting on this damned call while Jeffery managed to escape.  
Command Noonan entered the room.  
"Please kill me," moaned Stafford.  
Noonan felt a quick surge of panic. Did Stafford know about him? What was he asking? There was no way that Noonan could do what he wanted!  
"W-why?" stuttered Noonan.  
"Because if I have to listen to this hold music for another minute, I'm going to kill myself!"  
"Oh, I see," Noonan breathed a sigh of relief, "You're trying to locate our missing parts?" His voice was once again soft, smooth and silky.  
"Yeah, trying," Stafford said, "I don't know how long it's been. They say our stuff is going to take two months to get here!"  
"That's not acceptable,"  
"I f**king know that!" snapped Stafford, "I'm sorry, I'm getting really worked up."  
"Call centers are the den of all evil," Noonan agreed.  
A blue Andorian face appeared on the screen, and a whispery voice spoke.  
"Galactic Express Complaints Department, Zinth speaking, how may I punish, um, help you today?" he said.  
"I need my shipment, NOW," Stafford barked, "and you people are telling me it's going to be 2 months before you can get a ship to deliver it and that I can't pick it up or make other arrangements!"  
"I see. Only a Class 7 armed transport may deliver to your location. It is against company policy to release shipments to anybody in any location other than the one specified in the original shipping request."  
"I KNOW THAT!" shouted Stafford, "The woman who transferred me here kept repeating that over, and over again!"  
"They why didn't you listen to her, pathetic pink-skin!" laughed the Andorian, "She was right! Now, for your complaint, we can send a Specialist to your home to handle your problem. Now, as you are a very vocal customer, I'm going to recommend here that he severe your vocal cords. You may also choose from evisceration, incineration, or Xxartzzmnekkk."  
Stafford was too stunned to speak. His arms shot out and his mouth opened as he tried to speak, but no sound emerged.  
Noonan stepped in front of the monitor.  
"The Captain would like to express his opinion that your company is not behaving in a manner appropriate to a business operating under Federation law, and would like to emphasize that it is imperative that we obtain those parts. He also would like to imply that your parents were very closely related and that your gene pool is of very poor quality."  
Stafford nodded.  
"However," Noonan continued, "we do not wish to register a complaint. We simply want to arrange to have this shipment delivered as soon as possible."  
"Nice," murmured the Andorian, "very well. I will return you to Customer Care, however you must promise not to threaten any of the representatives this time."  
"Threaten?" Stafford asked, recovering his voice, "I never threatened anybody!"  
"The account notes indicate that you called her a slut and threatened to bomb her house," replied Zinth, "I'm impressed. You're very violent, for a human."  
"I never said that!" objected Stafford.  
"Would you like to register a complaint?" asked Zinth with an evil gleam in his eye.  
"No," replied Noonan, "Just transfer us, please."

Yanick sat in Unbalanced Equations, picking at her chicken soup. T'Parief sat across from her, wolfing down a plate of something unidentifiable. Conversation was non-existent.  
Finally, T'Parief spoke up.  
"What is bothering you?" he asked.  
"Nothing," replied Trish.  
"Yes, something is. You're not talking."  
"I don't want to talk about it," she replied coolly.  
"You talk about everything, "T'Parief chuckled, "why should this be any different?"  
"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Yanick snapped. She stormed out of the lounge, leaving T'Parief sitting alone and confused at the table.

Yanick stormed into her quarters and sank down onto her couch. How could she be so hard on T'Parief? It wasn't his fault she was bored and frustrated. No, it was his fault too. He was half of the relationship; any rut they were in was partly his fault. Even if he didn't know it! And sleeping with that holographic floozy really didn't help, even if his personality had been altered!  
A proper, mature Starfleet officer would analyze her feelings, possibly with the help of the ship's counselor. They would come to the conclusion that she was more disturbed by her boyfriend's unfaithfulness than she wanted to admit and then address the issue. Being a member of the Silverado crew, Yanick grabbed a beer, her teddy bear and the remote control for her viewscreen instead.

T'Parief hesitated then rang the chime to Counselor Yvonnokoff's quarters. The door opened and she stuck her head out. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she was wearing a conservative black dressing gown.  
"Yes?" she asked.  
"I, um, have a question I want to ask you," rumbled T'Parief.  
"Oh, really?" Yvonnokoff plastered on a sarcastic smile, "So I can sit in my office, staring at ze walls all day and haff nobody come by at all, but ven I get off duty you people are coming to my door!?"  
"I only wanted to ask-"  
"Nein! Come back during business hours! Besides, you are ze strongest, largest and most fearsome member of ziz pathetic crew. If you can't hold in your feelings until tomorrow, zen you need to have your gonads checked!" The doors hissed shut.  
"I didn't want counseling, I wanted advice!" muttered T'Parief. He amused himself by dragging his claws down Yvonnokoff's door, leaving 4-foot long scratch marks, then left.

"Thank you for calling Galactic Express, you have reached our Billing and Financial Department, I am Togg, how may I help you?" A leering Ferengi face appeared on the screen, framed by massive ears. The Ferengi were a race obsessed with profit. Anything else was irrelevant.  
"I need to get in touch with a supervisor," Stafford said, struggling to keep his voice calm and reasonable, "The previous representative was to transfer me to one, however I was placed in contact with you instead."  
"Isn't that interesting," Togg said, sounding not at all interested, "I can transfer you back to Customer Care, and they can further assist you."  
"Can't you put me through to a supervisor instead?"  
"Well, officially, no. But for a small fee…" Togg gave a sly grin.  
"I'm a Starfleet officer!" snarled Stafford, losing control, "Do you really think I'd have any money, you scum-sucking swamp rat!"  
Togg's smile transformed into an evil frown.  
"Hold, hew-mon!"  
Stafford collapsed onto his desk and started sobbing.

"Thank you for calling Galactic Express, I am Soven, how may I assist you today? A solemn Vulcan face appeared on-screen.  
"I NEED TO TALK TO A F**KING SUPERVISOR!" wailed Stafford, "I NEED MY PAAAARRRRTTTSSSSS!"  
Noonan stifled a chuckle.  
"Sir, your behavior is most illogical. I would like to help you, but in order to do so, I must ask that the illogic stop."  
"ILLOGIC?" Stafford kicked his chair, sending it bouncing against the wall, "To hell with logic! I need to get this fixed! I have 800 people on this ship, and we're stranded until you people SEND US WHAT WE WANT!"  
"Sir, you're behavior is most illogical. I would like to help you, but in order to do so, I must ask that the illogic stop."  
"WHAT? There was no illogic in that! I said nothing illogical! That was a perfectly logical statement! You're crazy!"  
"Sir, I apologize, but because the illogic has not stopped, I cannot assist you. I am now disconnecting this call."  
click  
"ENOUGH! I'VE HAD IT! ENOUGH!" Stafford screamed. He reached into his desk, pulled out an unfamiliar hand phaser and pointed it at his head. "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"  
Noonan slowly stood. "Captain, put the weapon down,"  
"NO! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THOSE BASTARDS ANOTHER SECOND!"  
Faster than the eye could see, Noonan rushed around the desk, pulled the phaser from Stafford's hand and pushed Stafford back into his chair. In less than a second he was standing back by the couch.  
Stafford looked around.  
"What the hell just happened?'  
"I don't know," Noonan lied, "you passed out while you were on hold and started shouting. Must have been a bad dream."  
"Um, right," Stafford muttered, confused.  
Noonan quickly examined the weapon in his hand and suppressed a sigh upon realizing that he had risked exposing his unnatural heritage over a water pistol.  
The ready room door chimed.  
"What time is it?" Stafford asked, rubbing his temples.  
"19:00h," replied Noonan.  
"Dear God, I was fighting with them for 6 hours! I don't care who's behind this door, I don't want to talk to them!"  
Stafford stepped out the ready room door, ending up face to chest with his 7-foot tall security officer. He looked up.  
"What do you want?"  
"Advice," T'Parief said, "regarding Yan-"  
"She's bored," interrupted Stafford, "she thinks you guys are in a rut and that there's nothing new for you to do except have sex, but she doesn't want to do that because she's scared Wowryk will castrate you if she does!"  
"And she's angry that you had sex with the holographic Jadzia," added Noonan.  
"Now go away. I've had enough people problems for today!" Stafford stormed into the turbolift. Noonan walked calmly to the command chair and sat down, leaving T'Parief standing alone and confused by the ready room door.

T'Parief was back in Unbalanced Equations. Steven had replicated a Gorn-style chair for him some time ago and placed it facing out the large windows after noticing that the senior officers usually liked to sit there. T'Parief's tail hung out a slot in the back of the solid iron chair.  
"So, in the doghouse already huh?" Lieutenant Jall, T'Parief's least favorite officer, had sat down next to him, "That's a surprise! I figured it would take much longer than that to piss off a sweet little girl like her!"  
"Go away!" snarled T'Parief.  
"So what is it this time? She finally get pissed off that you banged that hologram?"  
"I don't want to talk to you!"  
"Well," Jall smiled, "you might want to re-think that! When it comes to relationships, nobody has more experience in pissing people off than I do!"  
"I can definitely believe that," grumbled T'Parief.  
"Matter of fact, that's how I got this lovely demotion. Slept with the wrong Admiral's dearest offspring. Neither one of them was very happy with me in the end."  
"Great. They must have excellent taste then."  
"Whatever." Jall leaned over, "So, if she was the perfect Gorn woman, what would you do to make up with her?"  
T'Parief looked at him for a moment.  
"Why are you trying to help me?"  
"Well, I don't care much about you, but Trish is a nice girl. Mind you, don't tell anybody I said that!" Jall lowered his voice, "Plus, I know accepting help from me will make you miserable as hell. Or you can sit here and be miserable by yourself all night. Either way, I win. You can either both be miserable, or you can be miserable, but at least make her happy doing it!"  
"I hate you," T'Parief growled.  
"And I just love you," said Jall sarcastically, "now if she was a Gorn woman, what would you do?"  
"Leave a dead tlarga-rat on her doorstep and chain myself to her fence,"  
Jall started laughing hysterically.  
"And if she were a Klingon?"  
"I'd punch her out and demand that she permit me to enjoy whatever wench I wish."  
Jall laughed even harder.  
"A-and Andorian?" he forced out through fits of giggles.  
"I would slay her in honorable combat and marry one of her sisters. How the hell is this going to help me with Trish?"  
"It's not!" Jall wiped at the tears streaming down his face, "but I'm sure getting a good laugh out of it!"  
T'Parief stood to leave.  
"Wait, wait," Jall said, "I know how you can help her!"  
"Make it quick!"  
"She's bored, right? So let's do something she'll really like!"  
"I'm listening."  
"Shuttlebay One has finally been decontaminated." Jall said, "Smells fresh as a…well, never mind, it's clean now. The shuttles are still in Shuttlebay Two. So we replicate a bunch of straw, get Steve to do some catering, get a sound system, a crate of beer kegs…."  
T'Parief sat down to listen.

Stafford slept very poorly that night. In his dreams, he was being chased by hordes of beautiful women, which was a nice start. Once they started growing fangs and chanting 'It is against company policy' the dream became less enjoyable.  
Finally, after a nightmare in which the Silverado was attacked by an army of packing crates while horrible Spanish hold music played in the background, Stafford gave up. He crawled out of bed and sat at his table. He looked around his empty quarters.  
"I need a cat. Or fish. Or something!" he muttered.  
"You had that really nice dog when you where a boy," said the computer, "why don't you get another?"  
"OK, number one: I don't have time to walk a dog 3 times a day, and I don't want it crapping in my quarters. Number two: butt out! Even my real mother was never this nosey!"  
"Ungrateful brat," muttered the computer.  
Stafford replicated breakfast. After eating he showered and got dressed, the whole time rehearsing what he would say to the next Galactic Express employee he met.  
08:30h. Still 30 minutes before he had to be on the bridge. He slipped out of his quarters and began wandering the corridors of his ship.  
He really had to admit to himself; Silverado had come a long way from the ship he had taken command of. The corridors didn't look brand new, but they looked like something you would expect from a ship that had been in service for a reasonably short amount of time. He rode the turbolift down to Engineering, wincing slightly at the abrupt change in the decor. On Deck 2 everything was the warm, creamy colours of a Galaxy-class ship. Deck 29 had the colder grey look of the Intrepid-class. Ok, so everything wasn't perfect. But it was a step up! Now if they could just make everything work like it was supposed to…  
The doors to Engineering opened, causing Stafford to seriously re-consider his opinion of the ship's improvement. The air stank of burnt circuitry, consoles were open everywhere with half their electronic guts spilling out and he could see bits of firefighting foam the cleaners had missed.  
One of the night shift technicians, a very tall man with bright red hair marched over.  
"Good morning, SIR!' he snapped, coming to attention," How may I assist you, SIR!?"  
"Um, just wandering around," Stafford said, taking a step back.  
"I think you'll find we're making great progress, SIR!"  
"Right, I'm just going to head to the bridge now…"  
"As you wish, SIR! Do you require an escort? SIR!"  
"I think I'll manage."  
As he left Engineering, Stafford passed Jeffery in the corridor.  
"Simon, what is with your night shift guy? Did he flunk out of the Federation Marines or something?"  
"Nay," Simon sighed, "he hit his head crawling through a Jefferies tube. Thinks he's an 'Army Seal', whatever that is. He's much more co-operative this way though."  
"Right, whatever," Stafford rubbed his temples, "Going to come help me face the comm call from Hell?"  
"Um, nay. Ah think Ah'll help with the repairs."  
"Yeah, you do that. We need to be in top shape right now."  
"No promises."

Stafford stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge.  
"I really don't want to call those people again," he moaned.  
"It is an excellent opportunity for you to work on your interpersonal skills," suggested Fifebee with a small grin.  
Stafford stared at her, eyebrows raised.  
"I was just kidding," she muttered.  
"Outta my chair, Matt," Stafford ordered. Noonan obediently shifted to his own seat, "I'm going to face them out here. Maybe the sight of a full bridge crew will intimidate these sadistic pigs!"  
"Mr. T'Parief, patch us through to Galactic Express please," Stafford ordered.  
"He's not here," said Noonan, "he's working in Shuttlebay One this morning."  
"Jall, open a channel,"  
"He's also in the shuttlebay," advised Fifebee.  
"What are they doing?" asked Stafford, "Never mind, I don't care. Fifebee, open a channel."  
After working through all the prompts and sitting on hold for half an hour, a slightly nervous but cheery female face appeared on the screen.  
"Thank you for calling Galactic Express, my name is Samantha, how may I help you?"  
"I'm trying to get a shipment sent," Stafford said tiredly, "I fought with several people yesterday. My ship is stranded in deep space until we get the parts we need, and your people are telling me that's going to take months!"  
"Oh dear," said Samantha, "I'm sorry to hear you've been having problems, I'll do my very best to help you with that. May I please have your name and tracking number?"  
Surprised, Stafford gave his name and number.  
"All right Captain Stafford, I'm looking into the account."  
"Whatever you read in the memos, I didn't necessarily say it!" Stafford said quickly.  
"I see. Well, I see that your order is waiting at Waystation, pending arrival of a Class 7 armed transport."  
"Yes," Stafford said, rubbing his head, "I know. I just can't wait two months for it to get here!"  
"Of course sir, I completely understand. I can have a transport at Waystation by tomorrow. I can see by the number of transfers you experienced yesterday that you have been inconvenienced, so I will authorize the ship to operate in Priority Rush Delivery mode, at no extra charge. They will arrive at your current location in one week.  
"No, I don't want to be trans….what?" Stafford asked.  
"The transport ship will reach you in one week. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"  
"No!" Stafford laughed, "You're perfect! You're wonderful! Thank you! My ship thanks you! My crew thanks you! I love you! What's your secret?"  
Samantha blushed, "It's my first day on the job," she said.  
"Thank you so much!"  
"You're welcome. Galactic Express out." The screen returned to the image of the starfield outside.  
"Oh my God!" Stafford cried, dancing excitedly across the bridge, "We're getting our parts! Finally! YES!" He spun around then collapsed in his seat.  
"Why couldn't those pricks yesterday do that? She fixed this in seconds!"  
"The call center industry is a very demanding, demeaning and stressful occupation," Noonan said, "I would surmise that she hasn't been working there long enough to have her gentle spirit crushed. She still actually cares about assisting her customers."  
"Whatever, we're getting our stuff!"

Stafford sat happily in his chair, reveling in his success. Fifebee was continually scanning the area for any more of those alien vessels that had attacked them a few days earlier. Nothing so far! T'Parief and Jall were still in the shuttlebay, their replacements were going about their duties with looks of bored concentration. Yanick was sitting very quietly at her station, thumbing through an article entitled "Martha Stewart's Guide to Cross-Species Celebrations". This in itself wasn't unusual…the only strange thing was that she was just reading. No chatter, no commentary on the article, no references to how her family would do things differently.  
Stafford was about to say something when Jall stepped out of the turbolift and stepped over to Stafford.  
"Hey," he said with a forced air of casualness, "can I talk to you in private?"  
Stafford started.  
"Talk? Us? In private? What, do you need your face slammed into your soup again?"  
Jall put his hands on his hips.  
"Hardly!" He waited.  
Stafford sighed, then walked over to his ready room.  
"OK, so what do you want?"  
"Complete domination of the galaxy, eternal youth, a harem of hot, sexy-"  
"STOP!" Stafford cut him off, "I mean what do you want from me?!"  
"Have you noticed how a certain young lady has been a bit down lately?" Jall asked.  
"Which one?" Stafford countered, "the whole ship is bored to the point of insanity. The attacks might have spiced things up, but we've still been sitting in the middle of nowhere for weeks!"  
"Yeah, y'know, we really need a morale officer for times like this. Why haven't you appointed one yet? Jall asked with a smirk.  
"Fine. You are now morale officer. Go away!"  
"I'm not done yet! T'Parief and I have a little surprise planned for our special little sad lady."  
"You have a lady?" Stafford asked incredulously, "Oh, you mean Yanick."  
"Took you long enough! We've been prepping the shuttlebay for a good, old-fashioned barn dance. With a few modern twists, of course."  
"You and T'Parief…working together? VOLUNTARILY?" Stafford's eyebrows were somewhere around his hairline at this point.  
"Yeah," Jall giggled, "he f**king hates it! Anyway, we're just spreading the word now. Steve and his gang are helping out with food…now we just need everybody to show up."  
Stafford hesitated.  
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"  
Jall frowned. "What do you mean?"  
"The first time we had a party, Foreman Lynch switched our drinks. Everybody spent the next day wishing they were dead. The last time we had a party, the plumbing exploded, the ship was nearly destroyed and we were invaded by women-worshipping aliens! We're jinxed!"  
"What about the Waystation party?"  
"Dr. Wowryk tried to kill their Chief of Security with a beer mug. And that was a reception, not a party."  
"Ah well, third time's the charm. Be there at 19:00h." Jall walked towards the door.  
"I didn't dismiss you!" Stafford called.  
"I didn't ask!" Jall called back as he stepped onto the bridge.  
Stafford walked to his replicator and retrieved a cup of tea. Sitting down, he massaged his temples as he felt the onslaught of a headache.  
"I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

Word about the party spread through the ship like wildfire. There were many groans when people learned it was a barn theme, but they were bored enough that they could deal with it. There were loud objections (from the youths) and sighs of relief (from the adults) when Stafford put his foot down and firmly refused to allow any minors at the party.  
Yanick, wrapped in her magazines and clutching her teddy bear, remained in the dark about the whole event until T'Parief dropped by her quarters that evening.  
"Oh, hey," she said calmly as she answered the door, "what's up?"  
"Come with me," T'Parief rumbled, then walked away.  
Shrugging, Yanick followed him.  
"Where are we going?" she asked after a few moments of silence.  
"Shuttlebay 1,"  
"Are we going somewhere? Yanick scratched her head.  
They stopped through the thick security doors separating the shuttlebay and surrounding sections from the rest of Deck 3. Seconds later, they were stepping into the shuttlebay.  
The huge room was barely recognizable. Cargo containers had been stacked against the walls and covered with replicated straw, giving them the appearance of hay bales. Huge tables were pushed up against the shuttlebay doors, which had slats of wood mounted on them in the 'Z' pattern that was typical of barn doors. Piles of food from a variety of worlds were stacked on the tables, which groaned under the weight of everything from asparagus to roast beef to tlarga-rat-on-a-stick. Tables with benches lined the remaining walls. Hundreds of crewmembers were loading their plates, milling around, chatting, laughing and generally having a good time. A dance floor had been setup in the center of the room, although nobody would be doing any dancing until dinner was done.  
Yanick looked around the room in shock. The atmosphere was corny, especially with the large mirror ball hanging from the ceiling, but everybody looked like they were having fun. Of course, after being stuck in the middle of nowhere for a few weeks, counting porcupines would have been fun.  
Yanick noticed T'Parief looking at her expectantly and plastered a big smile on her face.  
"This is really….great!" she said, "I'm going to get a drink now."  
She walked towards the bar, her smile fading as she turned away from T'Parief.  
Steve was standing behind a makeshift bar mixing up drinks. He looked up at Yanick's face.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Nothing, I just need a drink."  
"One sec," he turned to Jeffery, who was standing nearby, "One Long Island iced tea, one regular iced tea." Jeffery grabbed the drinks and rushed off.  
Yanick ordered a rum and coke, chugged it, then ordered another.  
Lieutenant San Jall walked into the center of the dance floor, a microphone in his hand. Most of the crew was seated at the tables finishing dinner.  
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he called out, "Welcome to the first Silverado Theme Party!" He gestured for applause. 3 or 4 people clapped half-heartedly.  
"Anyway, the bar's open all night, and we have several shows for your enjoyment! To start us off, Ensign Pysternzykz and his amazing display of Andorian Darts!"  
Pysterzykz came running in the door then sprang into a series of flips. He came to a stop at the edge of the dance floor and released a series of tiny daggers at a target that had been setup on the far wall. At least that was his plan. Unfortunately, he was so dizzy from his acrobatics that most of the daggers missed, one of them implanting itself neatly into a roast chicken still on the food table. There was a moment of stunned silence.  
"Um, OK!" Jall called out, "Well, thank you Ensign for demonstrating why you're a pilot rather than a security officer!"  
Pysterzykz bared his teeth and took several steps towards Jall before Jall whipped out a phaser and stunned the Andorian.  
"It's been far too long since I've been able to shoot somebody!" he said.  
The crowd chuckled.

"Well, that was interesting," T'Parief said to Yanick, "Most Andorians are excellent when it comes to throwing sharp objects. I wonder if he has a medical problem?"  
"You weren't doing so well trying to throw a basketball!" muttered Yanick.  
"Er, right," T'Parief took another swing of his second Gorn Gutwrencher, "look, what's wrong with you? We spent all day getting this setup and all you are doing is glowering! Is there another human female thing I need to know about?"  
"I just…" Yanick bit her lip, "I wanted to do it!"  
T'Parief looked confused.  
"I wanted to have a party, and plan it, and get everything ready, and make the crew happy!" Yanick wailed, "I was researching stuff and reading articles, and I really wanted to do something! I then I find out that you guys already did it!"  
"But we did it for you!" objected T'Parief.  
"I know! I just feel so…useless!"  
T'Parief frowned. Now he was really lost.  
"First we're getting refit, and we don't need a pilot, then we're back in Spacedock, and we don't need a pilot. Then I rip a docking arm off Waystation and then we're stranded here. And guess what? We don't need a helmswoman! I've been sitting on my ass for the past 2 weeks with almost nothing to do! And when I try to contribute to the ship, you guys go and beat me to it!" Some of the nearby crewmen were looking over at Yanick as her voice rose. She looked up at T'Parief with big tears welling up in her eyes.  
"We thought you'd like it!" he objected, "It was Jall's idea! He figured after that thing with the hologram-" T'Parief knew as soon as the words were out his mouth that mentioning the hologram incident was a mistake..  
"Don't even mention that!" Yanick snapped. Crewmen were openly staring now. "I know it wasn't your fault, and I know she was just a crazy hologram BUT I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR OR THINK ABOUT IT!"  
T'Parief's eyes narrowed as his pride started to kick in.  
"I would never dishonor a woman. I've done my best to make you happy. If you cannot accept that, you have severely misjudged me!"  
Counselor Yvonnokoff stepped in.  
"Perhaps I can be of assistance, ya?" she said, "I am a licensed couple's thera-"  
"BACK OFF!" snapped Yanick and T'Parief together.  
"Look, I know you didn't mean to…to do that stuff with the hologram," Yanick said, "and I know you've tried hard to make me happy, but I don't want to think about you with some other woman! Is that so hard to understand?"  
"No," T'Parief said slowly.  
They looked at each other for a moment.  
"It's going to take some time to put that behind me," Yanick said, "I still want to see you, but you have to realize that some things upset me, and nothing you can do can make it all better right away!"  
"I see," T'Parief said flatly, "and the party?"  
Yanick smiled.  
"It's a really sweet gesture, from you and from Jall. I had no idea he was capable of something like that. I'm just disappointed I didn't get to help plan it."  
They looked at each other in silence again for a moment.  
"Did we just have our first fight?" Yanick asked.  
"I believe we did," rumbled T'Parief.  
"Cool!" Yanick giggled.  
"Redneck Jousting is up next," T'Parief said, "would watching Jall and I beat at each other with large sticks amuse you?"  
"Me and most of the crew," Yanick said.  
"Good. I'll be right back."  
T'Parief headed towards the center of the room while Yanick turned back to her table. The various crewmembers, disappointed that the argument hadn't turned ugly, turned back to their respective activities, leaving Yvonnokoff standing by herself.  
"So glad to be of help," she muttered.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" announced Lieutenant Jall, "I'm pleased to introduce our next event of this evening! Redneck Jousting! Each of our two competitors will receive a padded staff. Each competitor will take his or her place on a platform," a spotlight lit up on 6 cylindrical platforms. Each one was about 4 feet across and they were placed in a circle. Each platform was about a foot away from its closest neighbor, "the object is to knock your opponent off the platforms, onto the soft mat below! Ensign Burke, who are our first two entries?" Jall gestured theatrically as Burke handed him an envelope.  
"And the first two competitors are: Lieutenant Commander T'Parief and Lieutenant San Jall!" Jall frowned, then turned to Burke, "What the hell? I did NOT agree to participate! I am NOT getting into a fight with that overgrown salamander!"  
"Too bad," snarled T'Parief, grabbing Jall by the scruff of the neck. The crew applauded as he dragged Jall into the ring and handed him a padded staff.  
"Absolutely not!" snapped Jall, "There is no way you can force me to do this!"  
T'Parief reached down to his ankle, revealing a small hand phaser on an ankle strap. He tossed the phaser to Stafford.  
"If he tries to run," T'Parief said, "shoot him."  
Stafford grinned and threw him a mock salute.  
"That's not fair!" objected Jall.

Crewmembers crowded around the dance floor, vying for the best view of the contest unfolding while Jall and T'Parief climbed onto their respective platforms.  
"This should be interesting," Stafford said to Jeffery. Wowryk and Jeffery were seated nearby.  
"It's a brutal, uncivilized-" Dr. Wowryk started.  
"Yes, yes, we know," sighed Stafford, "Animal, primitive, God wouldn't approve. Whatever."  
Wowryk flopped back in her seat, then reached to take a sip of her drink.  
"My money is on Jall," Yanick said.  
"Are ye daft?" asked Jeffery, "T'Parief could rip him apart and use his bones as toothpicks! Yeah!" he shouted, "Go T'Parief!"  
give a surprising girlish giggle.  
"The boys are gonna fight, then the boys are gonna get hurt, then I'm gonna have to put them all back together again! Hee-hee!"  
"You Ok, Doc? Stafford asked.  
"Oh, I'm just peachy!" Wowryk laughed, taking another swig of her iced tea.

T'Parief and Jall took their places on the platforms. T'Parief bared his teeth at Jall.  
"Can't we just discuss this?" Jall whimpered, "I mean, I know we aren't the best of friends, but what have I done to deserve this?"  
"Remember when you talked me into this party? How I would have to be miserable with or without your help? I have found a way to share my misery with you! DEFEND YOURSELF!" He swung his staff at Jall. It was a light shot (for T'Parief) but Jall was barely able to block it. The impact nearly knocked him right over. He jumped to the next platform, trying to get out of T'Parief's reach. T'Parief choked up on his staff and swing it like a baseball bat. The far end reached Jall, barely, but he was able to block it with less difficulty. Snarling, T'Parief jumped to the next platform and swung. This time he connected hard with Jall's staff, sending the operations officer sprawling on his platform. The crowed cheered. Jall scrambled to his feel before T'Parief could knock him right off and jumped to the next platform. T'Parief jumped platforms again, closing the distance. As he landed, Jall swung at him with every ounce of strength he had. The impact threw off T'Parief's landing, causing him to stumble to his knees. With a roar of triumph, Jall swung at T'Parief's head, snapping it to the side. There was a cry of 'foul' from Ensign Burke, completely ignored by the contestants as the crowd of Silverado personnel booed and hissed.  
T'Parief's staff snapped out quicker than the eye could see, hitting Jall just below the knees and sweeping him off his feet. Jall landed hard. T'Parief was shaking his head, trying to clear away the stars in his vision, giving Jall time to drag himself up and jump clumsily to another platform, putting as much distance between himself and T'Parief as he could.  
T'Parief jumped shakily after Jall. Jall jumped to yet another platform. T'Parief kept moving to follow, but Jall was maintaining his distance.  
"Get back here you coward!" gasped T'Parief.  
"You gotta catch me first!"  
T'Parief was very tall, very muscular, very strong and had endurance to rival any Starfleet security officer. He'd also had two drinks over dinner and a full stomach. Jall was lighter and faster. As he chased Jall around the ring of platforms, T'Parief found himself tiring fast. Jall could see T'Parief gasping for breath as he lurched from platform to platform.  
"Yeah, not so tough now are ya?" goaded Jall, "What do you think everybody is going to say when I kick your ass, lizard-boy! Three fearsome species rolled into one, and you still can't beat me!"  
"You cannot win unless you face me!" snapped T'Parief, "And when you do, I will destroy you!"  
"Then I guess we'll just dance around all night!"  
A plan bloomed in T'Parief's mind.  
"No, we won't!"  
Pushing off his platform hard enough to send it tipping back, T'Parief launched himself across the center of the ring, directly at Jall. Jall barely had time to give a squeak of surprise before T'Parief hit him dead center and sent him flying off the platform and onto the floor below. T'Parief's arms windmilled as he tried desperately to regain his balance before he toppled off onto the floor, landing next to Jall.  
"And it's a tie!" announced Burke.

T'Parief and Jall pulled themselves to their feet, bruised bodies protesting.  
"Well, that was quite the show," Stafford said.  
"It came from the heart," gasped Jall.  
"I bet. Now shake hands and make up."  
"Huh?"  
"You've both had your fun, gotten it out of your systems," Stafford said, "Now I want you to shake hands and show the crew that despite your negative feelings for each other you are still fellow officers on this ship and will maintain a professional relationship!"  
Jall and T'Parief looked at each other uneasily.  
Stafford patted the phaser T'Parief had given him.  
Jall and T'Parief shook hands.

"Well, that was fun," Stafford said to Jeffery.  
"I sure enjoyed it," Jeffery said.  
"I just hope they didn't give the crew a negative impression of their command staff."  
"I think that ship has already sailed," muttered Jeffery.  
"Huh?"  
"Nothing. Have ye seen Noel?"  
"Nope. She wandered off. She's been acting funny tonight. Has she been drinking or something?"  
"Um, no. Of course not. Not at all."

"And now, ladies and…ow…gentlemen," Jall winced, "our final event before the dance starts: the Mechanical Bull!"  
Two ensigns wheeled the bull, which was a modified gymnastics horse from the gym, onto the floor.  
"And who would like to go first? Oh, who's this pretty young volunteer?"  
Dr. Wowryk giggled as she stepped up to the bull, a slight wobble in her step.  
"S**t," gasped Jeffery.  
"All right, Doc," Jall said, "The goal is to stay on as long as you can. Given that you don't have much experience riding things, this shouldn't take too long!"  
Jeffery started pushing his way through the crowd. Stafford grabbed him by the arm and held him back.  
"Let her have her fun," Stafford said with a chuckle, "It doesn't seem to happen all that often!"  
Wowryk climbed onto the mechanical bull, dug her heels into the sides and gripped the top firmly.  
"Ready?" asked Jall. Wowryk nodded.  
Dr. Wowryk let out a shriek of surprise as the 'bull' leapt up on antigravs and started tilting and rotating at random. She managed to cling on fairly well.  
"Well, I am impressed," announced Jall, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised…I guess all that effort spent keeping her thighs tightly together is finally paying off!"  
Wowyk attempted to glare at Jall while Jeffery barked some very impolite words.  
"Let's turn this up a notch, shall we?" said Jall with a grin. He hit a button on the padd he was holding, causing the antigravs to start making quicker, harder turns. Wowryk screamed as her arms came loose and she flailed around desperately.  
"Stop it!" shouted Jeffery.  
"And we're going for a new record, folks!" called out Jall, "Well, not a new record I guess, we've never done this before, but she's holding on a lot longer than I would have thought! Let's kick this thing into high gear!"  
The antigravs gave a hard thrust. Wowryk's legs lost their grip and she was thrown pin wheeling through the air, landing awkwardly on the mat. She gave a cry of pain as her arm was pinned beneath her.  
"Um, do we have a doctor in the house?" Jall asked uncertainly.  
400 fingers pointed at Wowryk, who was cradling her arm and gasping in pain.  
"Do we have another doctor in the house?"

Stafford, Fifebee and Jeffery were hovering over Wowryk in Sickbay. Fifebee was running a medical tricorder and a bone knitter over Dr. Wowryk.  
"Hairline fracture," Fifebee was saying, "Painful, but easily fixed."  
"Thank you, Lieutenant" Stafford said.  
"I'm concerned over the large amount of synthehol present in her bloodstream though," Fifebee said with a frown.  
"Synthehol," Stafford said flatly.  
"Yes. She must have been drinking very heavily. That would definitely explain her behavior."  
"I was not drinking heavily!" Wowryk objected. She had made the mental effort necessary to dismiss the effects of the synthehol and was in a less than good mood, "I don't even drink, except on very special occasions. This hardly counted!"  
"I wonder how she got so drunk, considering that she almost never drinks," Stafford said coldly, looking directly at Jeffery.  
"I dunno," Jeffery said.  
"Office. Now," ordered Stafford. He led Jeffery to Wowryk's office. Once inside he turned angrily to Jeffery.  
"How many drinks did you slip her?" he demanded.  
"Ah don't know what you're-"  
"Don't give me that bulls**t Simon!" Stafford snapped, "She was drinking iced tea all night! It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you were copying my little stunt from the other week! How many Long Islands did you slip her?"  
Jeffery looked down.  
"4 or 5," he said quietly, "tonight anyway."  
"So this isn't the first time you've been doing this,"  
"No."  
"Are you out of you f**king mind? What the hell were you thinking?"  
"I wanted her to have fun!" Jeffery objected, a tortured look on his face, "She's always so cold and distant! I know that if she could loosen up a bit she'd enjoy herself a lot more!"  
"That's not your decision to make! She's out there with a broken arm because of what you did! WHAT IF IT HAD BEEN HER NECK? You damned well know that a big part of drinking is to drink responsibly. How is she supposed to drink responsibly if she doesn't know what's going on?"  
"I tried to stop her from getting on that bull!" Jeffery objected.  
"That's no excuse!"  
Jeffery looked down again.  
"No, I guess not."  
Stafford tapped his comm-badge, "Stafford to security, report to sickbay."  
Jeffery looked at him in shock.  
"Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffery. Under Regulation 3-43, Paragraph C: "Conduct Unbecoming an Officer", I am ordering you to serve 20 days of solitary confinement."  
"What?" Jeffery asked, shocked.  
Stafford dropped the official tone.  
"I should be demoting you, she could have been seriously hurt! But I guess I planted this stupid idea in your head, so I'm letting you off light."  
The doors to the office swished open, revealing Ensign Stern. He had straw stuck to his uniform in several places.  
"Yeah, what's up?" he asked.  
"Escort Mr. Jeffery to the brig,"  
"What?"  
"Just do it!" Stafford snapped as he stalked out of the room.

End

Next: A delivery finally comes through, but now the Silverado crew must make repairs without their chief engineer. Plus, Stafford has to deal with one of the most feared members of the Silverado crew. Tune in next time on Star Traks: Silverado!


	11. 11 - Aftertaste

Star Traks: Silverado

1.11: Aftertaste

Captain Christopher Stafford stretched as he climbed out of bed. He felt terrific! Full of energy, full of pep. It was great to be alive! He was just reaching for his comm-badge to call his best friend and Chief Engineer Simon Jeffery to meet him for breakfast when the realization hit him:  
He had arrested Simon and had him thrown in the brig.  
Crap.  
Not that Simon didn't deserve it. He had gotten Dr. Wowyk pissed drunk against her will, to the point where she had injured herself. Stafford was fairly loose as far as regs went, he wanted his ship to have a relaxed feel. But he had to draw the line somewhere.  
He dressed and stepped into the corridor, bound for the officers' mess. He greeted Ensign Dar'ugal enthusiastically as the huge, furry Barudan passed by. Dar'ugal gave Stafford a nervous little smile and bow then went on his way.  
Stafford stepped into the mess hall and walked over to the replicator.  
"Raisin Bran cereal, 2% milk and supplement Z-71," he ordered.  
"Here you are, dear," the computer responded.  
Stafford sighed and found a seat.  
As he ate, he noticed that none of the other officers seated in the mess hall were looking in his direction. The various ensigns and lieutenants were carefully avoiding his gaze. Nobody was sitting near him either…there was an empty ring of seats surrounding Stafford. It was almost enough to make him think somebody was trying to give him the cold shoulder…

"Morning, Ensign," Stafford said to Ensign Day as he passed the bridge Operations station.  
"Good morning, Captain," Day replied.  
Stafford paused for a moment, taken aback slightly at the forced formality of the response. He recovered quickly then sat in his command chair.  
As the chrono ticked closer to 0900h, various other senior officers trickled in, sending their night shift counterparts off-duty.  
"Hey Trish," Stafford said warmly to Ensign Yanick, "Did you enjoy the party last night?"  
"Yes, sir. It was …fun," she said coolly, "Until you started tossing people in jail!" she muttered, too softly for Stafford to hear.  
"What did you think of the 'Jall vs. T'Parief' show?" he asked, oblivious to her remark.  
"It was entertaining," she replied, refusing to face Stafford, the tone of voice somewhere between Antarctica and liquid nitrogen.  
Stafford squirmed in his seat.  
"Something wrong?" remarked Noonan as he settled into his seat next to Stafford.  
"No…." Stafford said slowly. He looked around the bridge. 0910h. Lt. Jall was late for duty. Again!  
0915h. The turbolift doors opened and Lt. Jall stepped out.  
"Good morning everybody!" he announced as he took his post.  
"Lieutenant, you're 15 minutes late for duty!" Stafford said, annoyed, "Explain!"  
"It was a light night, SIR, I was organising an event for the crew, SIR, so take a chill pill, SIR!"  
Stafford's mouth opened and closed twice before Noonan jumped in.  
"It is something you must work to improve, Lieutenant," he said smoothly.  
"Got it," replied Jall, sounding less than sincere.  
"Captain, we're being hailed," replied Fifebee.  
"Jall, communications should be your job. Fifebee, on screen."  
"Whatever," muttered Jall.  
A long-haired youth appeared on screen. His blond hair hung down to his shoulders and his clothes were badly wrinkled.  
"Yo dudes!" he said, "What's up?"  
"I'm Captain Christopher Stafford of the Federation Starship-"  
"Yeah, yeah," the young man cut him off, "I'm Craig from Galactic Express. Courier number 2743024. I've got a shipment of parts and supplies for ya,"  
"What?" asked Stafford, shocked, "I just spent a hellish day dealing with you people, and they told me the best they could do was a week from now!"  
Craig shifted uneasily.  
"Yeah? Well, you make one innocent little stop to check out a bikini babe contest, next thing you know your company has declared you dead, your cargo lost and they're working to cover up the fact that you ever worked for them in the first place!"  
"Right," Stafford said slowly.  
"Captain," T'Parief broke in, "we're receiving a recorded message from Galactic Express."  
"On screen!" Stafford snapped before Craig could protest, "Jall get on the f**king ball!" Jall stuck his tongue out in response.  
"Captain Stafford," said a dark-haired woman on the screen, "My name is Karen from Galactic Express. I'm pleased to tell you that due to a recent upgrade on our tracking system, we've discovered that your order was not in fact delayed at Waystation, but is en route to your location. You should be receiving your shipment within the next 24 hours. Sorry for the inconvenience. We appreciate having you as a Galactic Express customer, and hope to have the pleasure of serving you again soon. Galactic Express out."  
"Not likely," Stafford muttered as Craig appeared on the screen. Before he could say anything, Jall hit the 'Mute' button and spoke up.  
"Text-only message from Waystation," he reported, "A Galactic Express ship showed up 20 minutes ago, retrieved our shipment and headed back into Federation space."  
"What the HELL is going on?" growled Stafford.  
"Apparently," said Fifebee, "when our delivery person stopped to view the bikini babe contest, Galactic Express mistakably declared him dead and our shipment lost. They sent a duplicate of our original shipment to Waystation and covered up the original shipment, but could not find an armed transport to deliver it until the Captain called in to complain. They have evidently learned that the original pilot is in fact still alive and so they have removed the duplicate order from Waystation and are attempting to explain the whole thing away as an equipment malfunction. Not an uncommon practice for many corporations."  
Craig was still on mute, waving one hand in an effort to regain attention.  
"That was an excellent summary," said Noonan.  
"Thank you!" Fifebee said with a small smile, "I received an upgrade on my deductive reasoning program last week,"  
"Really? How did that go?" Noonan asked.  
Craig was now waving both hands over his head.  
"It went quite well, thank you. My projection subroutines and joke library were also updated. Have you heard the one about the Ferengi, the Klingon and the bottle of soy sauce?"  
"Nobody told me about this," interrupted Stafford, annoyed.  
Craig had removed his shirt and was twirling it over his head.  
"Captain…" rumpled T'Parief, gesturing to the screen.  
"It wasn't really important," explained Fifebee.  
"You're the only hologram on board," objected Stafford, "What if something had gone wrong?"  
Fifebee was about to reply when Jall started shouting.  
"Yeah baby! Take it off!" he hollered.  
Everybody turned to the screen where Craig was now dancing around in his underwear, apparently singing.  
"Jall, shut up and take him off mute!"  
"…too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my-oh! 'Bout f**king time! What does it take to get through to you people!"  
"Yeah, whatever," signed Stafford, "look, just beam the stuff over and we'll be happy."  
"No can do, bro. My transporter got a bit flutzed up transporting a, uh…radioactive squirrel. You'll have to beam everything over yourself."  
"Radioactive squirrel," Stafford said flatly.  
"Ok, I accidentally dumped a mickey of vodka on the pattern buffer. Ya gonna beam this stuff over or not?"  
"We would," Stafford said tiredly, "except somebody dumped a mug of coffee into our transporter sensor controls."  
"Dude!" shouted Craig, "No s**t! That is, like, so f**king hilarious! What dips**t was dumb enough to-"  
"You're one to talk!" interrupted Jall.  
"Hey man, that's not cool!"  
"Look, could you just dock with us and transfer the stuff over?" asked Stafford.  
"I could," said Craig," but that would take forever! I think you'd like our 'express delivery' option way better. Much faster, dude."  
"That sounds OK," Stafford said.  
"Cool, dude! Thanks for choosing Galactic Express….and all that bulls**t."  
The screen returned to its standard starfield view.  
"He's opening his cargo bay doors," reported T'Parief.  
"On screen," ordered Stafford with a frown.  
The freighters doors were indeed opening. Suddenly, a dozen large cargo containers were ejected from the cargo bay. The freighter spun around and jumped into warp.  
"I suppose that is one method of express delivery," Noonan commented.  
"That little bastard!" snapped Stafford, "T'Parief, get tractor beams on those things and bring them into Shuttlebay 2!"  
"Unable to comply, sir," said T'Parief.  
"What? Why not?"  
"Because they're coming right at us!  
Indeed, the 12 containers were moving rapidly towards the Silverado.  
"Shields!"  
"They're already inside the shield perimeter!"  
"Collision alert!"

Outside, the cargo containers had each latched onto the Silverado with tiny tractor beams, pulling them towards the ship. As they neared the hull, the beams reversed, slowing the containers before they could crash into the hull. Powerful magnetic clamps engaged, attaching the containers firmly to the hull with a series of dull THUNKs.

Captain's Log, Stardate 56275.6  
"We've finally received the parts needed to fix the Silverado. Horray! Even sooner than we thought, due to some bizarre circumstances. Unfortunately, the parts have clamped themselves to the outer hull and we're not sure how to remove them. Even worse, our Chief Engineer is in the brig. This leaves me with the task of finding a temporary replacement.

The senior staff had gathered in the conference lounge.  
"Yanick, Jall," Stafford was saying, I want you two to take the Assessippi out to retrieve our cargo."  
"Ok," sighed Jall.  
"Yes, Captain," Yanick replied, saying 'captain' like the title left a bad taste in her mouth.  
"Problem," stated Fifebee, "I scanned the clamps attaching the containers to the hull. They will not release without a security code, which our delivery person neglected to provide. I attempted to contact him, but I'm not receiving any response."  
"F**k," muttered Stafford.  
"Captain, I should remind you that such language is not appropriate on a Starfleet vessel."  
"Huh?"  
"Moving on," Noonan interrupted, "we should send an engineering team to solve the problem."  
"Since you tossed our Chief Engineer in the slammer you're gonna have to pick somebody else to go!" chuckled Jall.  
"Rightly so," muttered Dr. Wowryk.  
"He'll be back in a couple weeks," objected Yanick, "you can't just replace him!"  
"Mr. Jeffery's logs show that he is very pleased with Ensign Frat Naketh's performance," said Noonan, "I've also observed that Ensign Sage has been doing very well heading up the engineering night crew." Noonan didn't mention that Sage's habits of chasing after anything with a firm backside had caused the crew to refer to him as 'The Rear Admiral".  
Stafford pondered his options for a moment before remembering that it was Naketh who had accidentally trashed engineering the previous morning.  
"Promote Ensign Sage to Lieutenant and put him in charge of engineering until Jeffery gets back."  
"Aye, sir."  
Yanick crossed her arms with a grunt and glared at the table.  
"Mr. T'Parief, what 's our tactical situation?"  
The nightmarish officer spoke up in his deep voice:  
"Everything is fully functional, except for the pulse phaser cannon. Mr. Jeffery had started implementing a brilliant plan to properly power it, but that project has been placed on hold for some strange reason."  
Stafford was momentarily taken aback at the sarcasm in the normally respectful officer's voice, but let the comment slide.  
"Sciences?"  
"I've picked up several strange readings on long-range sensors. Very subtle spatial distortions that indicated that the Mistress's spatial interphase devices, or SIDs, were once in use. There is no indication of any activity more recent than 6 months ago, with the exception of the vessels that attacked us."  
"We should investigate once repairs are complete," T'Parief added, "We may be able to use these distortions to track down the Mistresses."  
"Our orders are to explore, not to go on a witch hunt!" Stafford joked.  
Nobody laughed.  
"Anyway," Stafford went on, his smile fading, "Starfleet has given explicit orders that we are to proceed with our original mission of exploration, making contact with the Mistresses only if the opportunity presents itself."  
The uproar at the table was immediate.  
"What the HELL is Starfleet-"  
"-attacked us THREE times now-"  
"-threat to the Federation-"  
"-ridiculous-"  
The babble of voices continued, the senior staff ignoring Stafford's repeated calls for silence.  
"QUIET! NOW!"  
Everybody looked in stunned silence to the source of the overpowering voice. Commander Matthew Noonan was hunched over the table, the surface of which had cracked under the force of his grip. Dark blood was seeping where the glass had sliced his palms, and his eyes held the first glint of anger anybody could ever recall seeing there.  
He took a deep breath.  
"Thank you," he said, wiping his bloody palms on his trousers, "I'm sure the Captain was about to explain before he was so rudely interrupted.  
It took Stafford a moment to find his voice.  
"Um, yes, thank you," he cleared his throat nervously, "According to the latest communiqué from Admiral Tunney, the 'experts' at Starfleet Command feel that there is a significant chance that the placement of the Dream Machines, or SIDs," he added with a nod to Fifebee, "were in fact failed attempts to communicate, and that the attacks on us were in response to our failure to, um, respond."  
The senior staff exchanged glances and were on the verge of another outburst. A cold glare from Noonan quickly silenced them.  
"I never said they were right," Stafford muttered as he took his seat.  
Noonan stood and began issuing orders.  
"Fifebee, T'Parief, you will continue your current activities; maintain a heightened alertness for anything out of the ordinary. Jall, you will work with Lieutenant Sage to retrieve our cargo and begin repairs. I will notify him of his promotion after this meeting. Dr. Wowryk, please review the material compiled by Lieutenant Fifebee on the SIDs and add any additional information you can," Dr. Wowryk was about to protest, but Noonan continued speaking, "I am aware you have already done so, but I would appreciate it if you would take another look." Wowryk nodded. "Dismissed."  
The senior staff, with the exception of Stafford and Noonan, filed out of the room.  
Stafford started pacing in front of the conference room windows. Finally, he turned to Noonan.  
"What the HELL was that?"  
"I apologize for my outburst," Noonan said softly, "it won't happen again."  
"That is NOT what I meant, and you f**king know it!" Stafford snapped, "What the hell is wrong with everybody today! I don't expect perfect adherence to Starfleet protocols, but when the high point of my morning is dealing with an incompetent civilian, you know there's a problem! Putting this bunch in one room is usually a recipe for chaos, but they've never been so…so…"  
"Out of control?" guessed Noonan.  
"Exactly,"  
"Permission to speak freely?"  
"Why bother asking? You've never had to before! All morning it's been 'Sir' this and 'Captain' that, but with all the sincerity of Jall saying he wants to feed the starving children of the galaxy!"  
"You have had a fairly relaxed attitude in regards to crew behaviour. And it has worked fairly well for you, up until now. The saying goes: 'It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.'"  
"Or breaks an arm," added Stafford.  
"Exactly. You cracked down on Mr. Jeffery. That's led to confusion among the crew over what is and is not acceptable. Most of them are playing it safe by falling back on protocol, the way a puppy who has been spanked will hide in it's basket."  
"Interesting analogy," grumbled Stafford, "you think I was wrong to arrest Jeffery?"  
"Absolutely not," Noonan said firmly, "His actions, unlike dumping jello on somebody or cursing profusely, were illegal and resulted in injury."  
"Then why is everybody so pissed off at me?"  
"Many of them are shocked," Noonan explained, patiently, "the fact that Mr. Jeffery is your best friend doesn't help. Indeed, it makes you something of the tyrannical villain and he the martyr."  
"I had to-"  
"I know. There is also the matter of you getting Dr. Wowryk drunk two weeks ago. Yet you are not in the brig."  
"The waiter got our drinks wrong," Stafford objected, "I just didn't tell her about it."  
"That is a very shaky argument," Noonan pointed out, "Although you technically did nothing to violate any regulations, that behaviour was not becoming a starship captain and very much makes you look like a hypocrite."  
"I can see that," Stafford said reluctantly, "What do I need to do?"  
"Give everyone time to settle down," Noonan advised, "Once Jeffery is back, things will start to return to normal. Also, avoid getting the good doctor drunk again."  
"Done and definately done," Stafford said with a smirk. He clapped Noonan on the shoulder, "Thanks, Matt. I dunno what I'd do without you."  
"We're not done yet, Captain," Noonan said with a sigh. Stafford wasn't going to like this part.  
"Huh?"  
"I have been asked to deliver this to you," He handed a padd to Stafford and watched the colour drain from the Captain's face.

Captain Christopher Stafford  
RE: Incident Report

Captain,

Please report to my office at 1500h this afternoon to discuss your handing of the situation pertaining to Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffery.

Sincerely,  
Lydia Thompson  
Human Resources  
U.S.S. Silverado

"HR?" Stafford squeaked as he collapsed into the nearest chair. He gestured weakly for Noonan to leave.  
"You better…um…get Sickbay to look at those cuts," he said in a strangled voice.  
Noonan nodded and left. Had Stafford been paying attention, he might have noticed that the cuts on Noonan's palms had long since healed.

Trish Yanick walked into Unbalanced Equations and grabbed a light lunch from the replicator. She looked quickly around the room, which was packed with the Alpha shift lunch crowd. A few members of Beta shift had also wandered in for a late breakfast. Everybody was still drained from the previous night's party, but a constant, low buzz of conversation was present as everybody recounted the fight between Jall and T'Parief or Dr. Wowryk's encounter with the mechanical bull.  
"Are you sure you've got enough to eat?" asked the computer, returning Trish's focus to the task at hand.  
"Oh!" she giggled, "Yes, thanks, I'm not that hungry."  
"I've just received a new replicator file for Antosan Flekar pasta salad that would go really well with that sandwich!" insisted the computer in the universal tone of a mother convinced her child isn't eating enough.  
"Well, OK," Trish said. The replicator hummed and she retrieved the dish.  
"Come back when you're ready for dessert!"  
Trish quickly located her best friend, Dr. Noel Wowryk, in a quiet corner and sat down.  
"Good morning!" she said cheerfully, "and how are we feeling today?"  
Noel looked blankly at her for a moment, shrugged, then looked back down at her soup.  
"That was quite the meeting, huh?" Trish went on, "I've never seen Matt get upset before! Did you see how he busted the table? He must be pretty strong, for such a slim guy. Did he come by Sickbay to get his hands fixed up?" She took a big bite of her sandwich.  
"No," Noel said softly, "I haven't seen him."  
There was silence as Trish chewed. Now that the obligatory ice-breaker was out of the way, it was time to move on to the juicier stuff.  
"I can't belief Chris's replacing Simon," Trish declared, "I mean, I get that Simon did something wrong, but haven't things gotten a little out of hand?"  
This got a reaction. Wowryk's eyes flashed as she slammed her spoon on the table.  
"He got off light!" she snapped, "20 days solitary confinement! What he did was vile and despicable! I could have been killed!"  
"Well-" Trish started. Wowryk kept going.  
"I can't believe he'd do such a thing! I'm just shocked! He seemed so harmless! He's like a little boy! I have to tell him what to wear, what to do, how to behave…and he seemed so sweet and innocent!"  
"You mean you had him wrapped around your little finger and now he's bitten back!" Trish said with a giggle.  
"Well I liked him there!" Wowryk said firmly, "Men are senseless, crazy beings who need to be kept on a short leash!"  
"Is he your boyfriend, or your pet?"  
"What?"  
"Is he your pet?" Trish repeated.  
"No, before that. You said-"  
"Boyfriend."  
Noel leaned back in her seat, a confused look on her face.  
"Boyfriend," she said slowly, "I never...I didn't think…"  
Yanick brought her hand to her mouth and gasped.  
"OH MY GOD!" she squeaked, "You've never had a boyfriend before! I don't believe-"  
"Oh come on!" Wowryk snapped, "That's enough!"  
Trish dropped her hand and wiped the shocked expression from her face.  
"Yeah, I'm not surprised," she admitted.  
"We were just dating," Noel said, holding her head in her hand "I never thought of him in any kind of romantic sense."  
"No wonder he tried to get you drunk," Trish muttered.  
Wowryk started to tear up.  
"Have I been that horrible?" she asked, "I'm trying to be a good, Catholic girl! If he was that miserable-"  
"You weren't!" Trish assured her, "Simon adores you! He just wants you to have fun. He probably wouldn't have even though of that stupid stunt if Stafford hadn't given him the idea."  
Wowryk shot up.  
"WHAT?"  
"Y'know, a couple weeks ago. The waitress gave you his drink, he noticed, you didn't, you got trashed," Trish noticed an unhealthy flush was coming over Wowryk's face as a snarl broke her porcelain features, "and you had absolutely no idea, and I just opened another big can of worms," Trish finished dejectedly as Noel stormed out of the room.  
"Dessert is sounding better and better," she sighed.

Stafford was sitting in his ready room, contemplating his upcoming meeting with Ms. Lydia Thompson, when Dr. Noel Wowryk stormed in.  
"You son of a bitch!" she snapped.  
"This really isn't a good time," he sighed.  
"Too damned bad!" Wowryk paused to cross herself.  
"What's this about?" Stafford asked.  
"Like you don't know," she replied haughtily, "Simon is down in the brig while you sit up here scott-free!"  
"I didn't do anything!" Stafford protested.  
"You gave him the idea!"  
Stafford was quiet for a moment.  
"I was hoping you wouldn't find out about that," he admitted.  
"Yeah, I bet!" Wowryk snarled, "Because you knew that if I found out I'd want you down there too! And I'll get you down there! After I have a talk with Commander Noonan-"  
"He already knows," said Stafford, "Everybody knows!"  
Wowryk looked at him.  
"And?" she asked, expectantly.  
"And," Stafford replied, his tone suddenly formal, "while it was inappropriate of me to allow you to consume that drink, I did not serve it to you, neither did I force you to consume it. I didn't violate any regulations, Simon did. End of story."  
"And that's it?"  
Stafford looked down.  
"I'm sorry," he said, "I hate that this happened. For what it's worth, Simon really adores you. I hope you remember that when he gets back."  
"I have many things to consider," replied Noel coldly as she left.  
Stafford blew out a long breath.  
"I didn't sign up for this s**t."

The Author is pleased to announce that the remainder of this story will be presented to you using 'Sound-O-Vision'! This exciting new concept allows you to use your imagination to add a soundtrack to our story! At specific points, you will be informed of the appropriate music to imagine. Thank you, and enjoy the remainder of this story in revolutionary new Sound-O-Vision!

"Shaun Sage, I herby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant, with all the rights and privileges thereof," said Commander Noonan, "and may God have mercy on your soul." He pinned the new pips to Sage's collar as the engineering team applauded uneasily.  
"Congratulations, Lieutenant," he finished.  
"Thank you, sir," replied Sage.  
"I believe you already know your assignment," Noonan said coolly, "Carry on."  
"Yes sir!"  
As Noonan left, Sage turned to the Alpha shift engineering team. A Nicondii sibling group, the dozen or so short, orange-skinned humanoids were all but indistinguishable from each other.  
"So, who wants to fly the runabout?"

Sound-O-Vision reminder: The following scene is best imagined with the 'Departure' track from Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan. Y'know, where the Enterprise is leaving Earth…

After 15 minutes of squabbling, Frit Naketh guided the runabout Asessippi out of the shuttlebay. Ensign Sage looked out the window at the Silverado. The outer hull had been repaired since their last battle and was looking almost brand new. The only abnormality was the dozen cargo containers scattered over the upper surface of the saucer, looking like metallic acne. Lieutenant Jall was at the bridge Operations console, waiting to assist Sage.  
"Let's try a tractor beam," suggested Frat.  
The bluish beam shot out of the runabout and locked onto a crate. Nothing happened, then the tractor beam started to flicker.  
"I'm getting some strange feedback," reported Frat.  
"Up the power," ordered Sage.  
"You idiots are gonna cause a hull breach," came Jall's bored voice from the comm, "Turn that thing off!"  
"Cut it," sighed Sage, "We're gonna have to do this the hard way."  
"The hard way?" Frat asked, nervous.  
"We're gonna have to go out there and disable the magnetic clamps."

Sound-O-Vision reminder: The following scene is best imagined using one of the following themes: 'The Throne Room' from Star Wars: Return of the Jedi or 'Emperor's Theme' from the same movie.

Stafford tugged at the collar of his uniform as he sat in the small reception room outside Lydia Thompson's office. Starfleet protocol generally called for the First Officer of a ship to handle personnel problems. Human Resources operated offices out of major planets and Starbases to help with the overall personnel situation and to ensure that all personnel decisions were handled in a way that conformed to Federation labour laws. That was the official story anyway. Because they were civilians, the HR reps were outside the Starfleet chain of command, reporting directing to the Federation's Secretary of Human Resources. This gave each rep a staggering level of authority. Fortunately, most HR reps would only ever intercede when things were going horribly wrong.  
Silverado was one of the very few starships that actually had a representative from Human Resources on board. Since she was also the flagship of President Dillon's Operation Salvage project, it didn't take much imagination to realize that Dillon had probably planted her there to keep an eye on Stafford.  
Stafford had only met Lydia Thompson once, shortly after taking command of the Silverado. Only later had he learned that her pretty features and pleasant manner hid a steel-hard core and the willingness and ability to crush any who stood in her way.  
"Ms. Thompson will see you know," voiced the computer at exactly 1500h, "and honey, if you know what's good for you, don't make her mad!"  
"That's reassuring," Stafford muttered. Obviously he had somehow gotten on Lydia's bad side already.  
He stepped into Lydia's office, then came to a stop, shocked.  
The cool grey-blue colours of Deck 5 had been painted over with a flat black. Low rows of filing cabinets lined the walls, topped with dozens of tiny candles. Dark paintings hung on the walls and a thick, blood red carpet covered the floor. Behind a high desk of deep mahogany were two tall windows, typical of the ship's upper saucer. Blood-red velvet drapes framed the windows. Outside, Stafford could see several figures in environmental suits working on one of the cargo containers stuck to the ship's outer hull.  
Noonan would be right at home here," Stafford thought to himself. Before he could figure out why that thought had come to him, his attention was drawn to the figure behind the desk.  
Ms. Lydia Thompson was a striking woman with distinctive features. She was maybe 30, though it was hard for Stafford to tell. Her long blond hair fell halfway down her back, framing her pale face. She had applied black lipstick, and her long fingernails had likewise been painted black. She wore a spotless, immaculately pressed black suit that flattered her slender figure. She stood as Stafford approached the massive desk.  
"Captain Stafford," she said coolly, "thank you for coming. Please take a seat."  
"Um, thanks."  
"Do you understand why we're here today?"  
Stafford gulped. Why was he here today? Did he do something wrong when he arrested Jeffery? Was it because he arrested Jeffery? Was it because of the crew's reaction to the whole thing?  
Evidently, Ms. Thompson was tired of waiting for a reply.  
"Well, we're here to discuss the events of recent days, obviously. However there are other matters that I would like to bring to your attention."  
"Other matters?" Stafford asked nervously. He could feel sweat breaking out all over his body.  
"Yes," Ms Thompson smiled, "but we'll get to that later. First off: I have noticed that there has been a substantial uproar regarding the arrest of Simon Jeffery for," she consulted a padd, "Conduct Unbecoming an Officer."  
"Well yeah," Stafford choked out, "but they're really over-reacting, I think."  
"I agree," stated Lydia, "You were absolutely right in arresting him. In fact, it was your legal obligation and you are to be applauded for it. It couldn't have been easy to take action on somebody that you have such a close friendship with."  
"I was?" Stafford asked, "I mean, I was! That's why I did it!" He could hardly believe it! She wasn't going to skin him alive after all!  
"That's not to say that you've handled the situation properly," Ms. Thompson added, her smile never leaving her face, "Indeed, there are several way in which this could have been handled better. Can you think of any?"  
Sweat again broke out across Stafford's face.  
"Um," his brain froze, "maybe I should have brought security with me, instead of calling for them after?"  
"Actually," Thompson said coolly, "it is preferred that security only be brought in once they are needed, as having them present during any coaching or disciplinary discussions will only increase the level of tension."  
Stafford was finding himself having a very hard time meeting Lydia's eyes. Her calm, cool demeanour was everything that a professional H.R. person should have, but there was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was WRONG! The woman in front of him absolutely radiated a sense of menace, regardless of her big smile. He looked out the window at the figures working on the cargo container. They were gone! Well, some good news! At least the parts were getting moved into the ship.  
He noticed a small, moving speck darting towards the ship. Squinting, he tried to figure out what the heck it was. As it moved closer to the ship, he realized it was the missing cargo container, the engineering team still attached. Before it could crash into the hull, it slowed with shocking speed, then immediately flew back into space like some insane yo-yo. Stafford struggled to return his attention back to Thompson, but his eyes kept flicking out the window as the crate came back again, then rebounded back into space.  
Lydia Thompson was still speaking.  
"-so then Captain, what could you have done to better handle the situation?"  
Stafford shook his head.  
"Very well. Let's explore that, shall we?" Thompson's eyes flashed, "I have here 13 different interactions with 13 different crewmen and officers this morning that should have ended in reprimands over their behaviour. That doesn't include the entire senior staff, each of which displayed some of the most unprofessional behaviour I have EVER seen on a Starfleet ship at this morning's meeting!"  
Stafford was shocked that she had heard about the morning meeting. Evidently his shock was apparent to Thompson as she paused to smile sweetly.  
"You'll find that very little happens on this ship without my knowledge. Captain! Ensign Yanick, Lieutenant Commander T'Parief, Lietuenant Commander Jeffery and Dr. Wowryk should all have been firmly reminded that personal relationships among senior officers are inappropriate at best and must NEVER interfere with their duties." Thompsons voice was becoming sharper, her words increasing clipped and harsh, "You acted very poorly in the lounge regarding Dr. Wowryk. Ensign Yanick was never properly disciplined for the damage inflicted at Waystation. Ensign Naketh was never properly disciplined for the damage he caused to engineering! Lieutenant Jall should be in the brig for insubordination and reckless endangerment!" Thompson stood and gestured out the window. "This chaos behind me with the cargo crate? Should NOT be happening! YOUR ENTIRE SHIP WAS STRANDED BECAUSE OF A PLUMBING ACCIDENT!"  
Stafford started stammering out a reply.  
"Not so easy without Commander Noonan to help you, hmmm? Thompson asked with false sweetness.  
Stafford felt a flash of anger.  
"I-I can't argue that there have been some problems," he said, "but what about our results? We had this ship ready for launch on time. We escaped from Dreamland. We retrieved the Stallion successfully, and we took down the pirate that attacked Waystation."  
"Any of which could have been accomplished with greater ease by a more professional crew!"  
"I'm starting to think you have a problem with us!"  
"I feel that many of your decisions regarding the crew of this vessel need to be re-evaluated."  
"We're learning!"  
"YOU'RE INCOMPETENT!"  
Stafford leaned back, shocked.  
Thompson composed herself and sat down.  
"You have thus far shown yourself to be lacking in many of the coaching and disciplinary skills needed by a starship Captain."  
Stafford frowned.  
"Is this Starfleet's opinion, or yours?"  
"That is not important."  
"I think it is!"  
"I disagree."  
"I want to know," Stafford snapped, "Now."  
To Stafford's increasing surprise, Lydia smiled.  
"That's better," she said, "Notice how you shifted from the defensive to the offensive. That is something you really should incorporate into your leadership style."  
"You were testing me?" Stafford was even more confused.  
"No. I just wanted to see if you had any backbone."  
"But why?"  
Thompson clasped her hands in front of her.  
"Captain, I think it's obvious to both of us that this crew is not up to Starfleet standards. The skills and abilities are there, for the most part, but the proper attitude is missing."  
"We've got the urge to explore," Stafford pointed out, "according to the recruiting poster, that's good enough!"  
"I disagree. There is also professionalism, integrity, proper deportment, respect-"  
"Does Starfleet know we're having this discussion?"  
"That doesn't matter."  
Stafford was becoming furious.  
"What do you mean 'that doesn't matter?' You're a civilian! You have no authority to discipline me! You're job is to ensure that we follow Federation law in the dealings with our crew, and you've already said that we've done that!"  
"You're absolutely right, Captain," Lydia leaned back in her seat, "But I report to the Secretary of Human Resources, who would only be too happy to recommend your removal to Starfleet Command."  
"Starfleet doesn't demote people without just cause! And if 'bad attitude' was a just cause, half the captains in the fleet would be out of work!"  
"Maybe so," Thompson checked her chrono, "but now is not the time to argue that point. I have another appointment in 5 minutes, "she leaned forward to regard Stafford seriously, "Captain, this whole conversation comes down to one point; you've reached a crossroads in your command of this ship. We both know that there are certain crews in the fleet that do things…differently…from everybody else. Suffice it to say that we don't have many people requesting assignment on those ships. To be blunt, Silverado is becoming the latest addition to that list. If you want to become a ship of the line rather than an embarrassment, this is your last chance to turn things around. You've drawn a line, and that's good. But you need to keep the pressure on everybody to shape up, or things will never improve."  
"And if I would rather do things differently?" Stafford asked.  
"Then you can deal with the same chaos you've experience for the past several months, until somebody crosses the line again. Next time you might not be so lucky," Thompson stood again, "Thank you for your time, Captain. If you'll excuse me…"  
Stafford left the office, deep in thought.

Lieutenant Sage and his team were also getting further away from Lydia Thompson's office, but HR was the last thing on their minds.  
"Make it stop!" wailed Naketh.

15 minutes earlier:

Sound-O-Vision reminder: For optimal experience, use 'Hungarian Rapsody'

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Frat Naketh.  
"Of course I'm sure!" chided Sage, "We reverse the polarity of the magnetic clamps to detach the crate from the hull then catch it with the runabout!"  
"What if the magnets clamp onto the runabout?"  
"They'll be set to repel Starfleet hull metals, not clamp!"  
"But how are we gonna get the crate into the shuttlebay with the magnetic clamps active?"  
"We'll worry about that later."  
Sage started poking around the open access port.  
"Can't we just shut them right off?" asked Frek Naketch.  
"No, the security system won't let us."  
"But they'll let us mess around with the magnets?"  
"Yup."  
"That's stupid!"  
"It wasn't my idea!" Sage reached up to rub his temples, his hand smacking up against his helmet.  
"What's under here, anyway?"  
"Under what?"  
"This area of the hull."  
"Oh. Um, Secondary Life Support on Deck 6, Dr. Wowryk's Office and Sickbay on Deck 7 and HR on Deck 5."  
"I guess we better be careful then."  
"No kidding! We do anything to knock out Life Support, we're gonna be in BIG trouble."  
Frat frowned.  
"Who cares about Life Support?" he said, "I'm more worried about HR or Dr. Wowryk. Do you have any idea what those women could do to us if we made them mad?"  
"Can we get back on topic, please!" objected Sage, "I'm ready to reverse the polarity. Frit, are you ready?"  
"Ready, sir," came Frit Naketh from the runabout.  
Click  
Nothing happened.  
At first.

Sound-O-Vision: At this point, you should fast forward to the section of Hungarian Rapsody that is most often heard in animated cartoons such as 'Tiny Toons' and 'Who Framed Rodger Rabbit".

"AHHHHH!"  
The cargo crate, propelled by the reversed magnets, launched off of the Silverado's saucer and straight at the runabout. Ensign Frit Naketh barely managed to move the runabout out of the way as the cargo container rocketed by.  
"TURN IT OFF!" wailed Frek.  
Sage reached in and returned the magnetic polarity to normal.  
The crate slowly started to decelerate.  
"Phew" sighed Frat.  
"Why are we moving so slowly?"  
Sage thought for a moment.  
"The ship's further away," he said, "the magnetic clamps aren't as close to the hull, so the magnetic attraction is less. As we get closer, we're going to speed up."  
Sage, Frek and Frat looked at each other.  
"S**T!"

As the crate picked up speed, Sage worked at the access panel.  
"Hurry up!" wailed Frek as he watched the gleaming hull of the Silverado as they rocketed faster and faster towards it.  
"It's stuck!"  
"Hurry up!"  
"Got it!"  
The crate lurched to a hard stop less than a foot away from the hull as the magnetic clamps pushed away from the ship. It then reversed direction and shot back into space.  
"I'm getting sick!"  
"Please don't puke in your helmet….oh, f**k man, that's gross!"  
"Frit!" hollered Sage, "Get a lock on us!"  
A tractor beam shot out from the runabout. It held for a second before fizzling out.  
"Feedback!" reported Frit, "Must be part of the security system!"  
"Help us!" waited Frat.

Up on the bridge, Lieutenant Jall was laughing hysterically.  
"Oh man!" he choked out through a fit of giggles, "I haven't seen anything this funny since…since…I dunno!"  
"What's up?" asked Fifebee, sitting at her station.  
"Look at this!" Jall transferred the video feed from the runabout to the main screen.  
Fifebee and Yanick looked in shock as the cargo container and the attached engineering team shot away from the ship, only to slow and reverse course, coming within inches of the hull before rocketing back out again.  
"Oh my God!" wailed Yanick, "somebody's gonna get hurt!"  
"I know!" giggled Jall, "Isn't it great! Here, listen to the audio!"  
"AHHHHHHHH!" came the scream over the speakers.  
"This is sadistic!" stated Fifebee with disdain, "Fifebee to Sage,"  
"AHHHHHH!"  
"I can assist you, just follow my directions."  
"AHHHH?"  
Fifebee watched as the container approached the hull.  
"Reverse the polarity, now!" she ordered. The container slowed.  
"Now reverse it again!"  
The container settled to the hull with a THUNK.  
"Thank you!" Sage cried over the channel, "Thank you so much! My stomach thanks you! My head thanks you!"  
"A simple 'thanks' would have done," Fifebee replied, "But you're welcome."

Sound-O-Vision: The next, short scene is most appropriately enjoyed with the Pirate's Dirge.

Stafford stood outside of Thompson's office for several seconds, trying to settle his stomach. It was hardly the first time he'd been given s**t for something, but it was definately the least enjoyable. Admirals, Captains, ex-girlfriends, his parents…only Dr. Wowryk came anywhere close scaring him the way Thompson did. The woman was cold, like an ice statue. A sharp, pointy ice statue.  
"I gotta get outta here," he decided.  
He headed straight for Unbalanced Equations.  
Steve, of course, was waiting to greet him.  
"Heya Chris! How's it going?"  
"I just had a meeting with HR."  
"Oh my God," muttered Steve, "Mary, get the strong stuff. The Captain needs to get seriously drunk."  
"Noonan to Stafford,"  
"Crap," muttered Stafford, "Stafford here. What is it?"  
"How did your meeting go with Ms. Thompson?"  
"Poorly,"  
"I thought so. Would you like me to cover your bridge shift tomorrow morning? I imagine you will be in no shape to work."  
"Um, sure," Stafford said slowly, "thanks."  
"No problem. Noonan out."  
Stafford looked at Steve.  
"How does he do that?"  
"I dunno. Here, let's get you started off with something good and strong." He handed Stafford tall glass with wisps of orange mist drifting from the top.  
"Thanks."

A few hours later, Lieutenant Sage stood in a small briefing room in front of his engineering team.  
"Ladies and gentlemen," he started, "After much thinking and deliberation, Ensign Naketh and I have come up with a plan to get the cargo containers into the shuttle bay," a hand popped up, "yes? Question?"  
"Which Ensign Naketh?"  
Sage regarded his group of short, orange skinned ensigns named Naketh.  
"Frat Naketh," he said, "now-"  
"Our shift is over," one of them pointed out, "are we gonna get paid overtime for this?"  
"The Federation doesn't use money!" snapped Sage.  
"What about extra replicator rations or holodeck time?"  
Sage clenched his teeth.  
"Seeing as how the holodecks are broken, NO! We're just gonna get through this briefing tonight, then carry on tomorrow morning! Now be quiet and let me finish!"  
There was assorted grumbling.  
"Look, I know you miss Jeffery, and I know that I was just another team member until today, but I've been placed in charge, and I'm gonna get this job done!" Sage seethed.  
He waited a moment for everybody to calm down.  
"OK, here's the plan…"

The next morning…

Sound-O-Vision: For optimal enjoyment of the next XERGER….GRONKS!

The Author would like to announce that he has forcibly discontinued Sound-O-Vision on account of it was DRIVING ME INSANE! And now, back to our program…

Sage and the various Ensign Nakeths were back on the outer hull, hovering around what had been unceremoniously dubbed Crate 1. Sage watched as Frat Naketh affixed a small flow oscillator to the control line leading to the magnetic clamps.  
Since they could change the polarity of the magnets, but not turn them right off, Frat had come up with the idea of affixing the oscillator to the line. The desired result being that with the magnets changing polarity quickly enough, the crate could be removed from the hull. A small knob allowed Frat to adjust the oscillator to the point where he could increase or decrease the force applied by the magnets, allowing the crate to hover over the hull surface.  
In theory, anyway.  
Without useable transporters or a tractor beam, there was still the problem of 'How the hell do we get this thing inside?' This time it was Lieutenant Sage to the rescue. Several small thrusters had been mounted on Crate 1 and connected to a small joystick next to the oscillator control knob. In theory, this would allow Sage to guide the crate into Shuttlebay 1.  
In theory, anyway.  
"Sage to bridge," he reported, "we're ready out here."  
"Confirmed," replied Noonan easily, "Shuttlebay doors are open. Are you sure you want to go through with this, Lieutenant? It may not be as simple as you think."  
"Thank you, sir," replied Sage, " but I'm sure we can manage."  
"As you wish," Noonan sounded amused, "Carry on, but please keep this channel open."

Noonan sat back in his seat. The main viewscreen was showing the work crew on the hull. He could hear Sage over the comm link, preparing his crew.  
"Please mute our end, Lieutenant Jall," he ordered.  
"Getting a hunch on this?" Jall asked with a laugh.  
"You could say that. Ah, here they go…"  
Sage had taken his position on the crate and had activated the oscillator. As predicted, the crate rose slowly away from the hull. Sage fiddled with the controls, moving the crate closer again. Then further. Finally, he was able to stabilize it. One of the other engineers gave him the thumbs up, and he reached for the joystick.  
"Here we go," whispered Noonan.  
"AHHHHHH!" screamed Sage.  
The crate had shot off like a large, boxy rocket, heading straight for the raised section of the saucer containing Officer's Quarters. He twisted the control knob, sending the crate flying further away from the hull. Unable to gain enough altitude, one bottom corner dragged along the hull, sending the crate into a flat spin as it narrowly missed the bridge.

Captain Stafford was awakened by a metallic shriek. He rushed to get out of bed and had almost succeeded in sitting up before the hangover kicked in, sending the world spinning around him as he collapsed back onto the bed.

Lieutenant Jall was giggling insanely from Operations. Noonan was sitting in the command chair with a small smile creasing his smooth features. Yanick and Fifebee were aghast.  
"Help them!" cried Yanick, "They're going to be hurt!"  
"Commander, this is most improper-"  
"They'll be fine," Noonan said softly, "Lieutenant Sage is going to rocket around the ship for awhile before coming in for a landing. He'll decide it was so much fun, the engineering team is going to be fighting over who gets to bring in the other 11 crates."  
"You're sure?" Yanick asked, uneasy.  
"Positive."  
Jall sighed.  
"You just know how to take the fun out of anything, don't you?" he complained.

Sage had not yet decided he was having fun. He'd managed to get control of the crate barely in time to find himself flying off the saucer and onto one of the two massive warp nacelles at the aft end of the ship. He fought to stay in control, loosing only when he reached the series of ridges partway down the nacelle's upper surface. The crate slid down towards the engineering hull. Sage only avoided a crash by turning the magnets to maximum at the last minute. Sage now found himself looking up at the connector between the engineering and saucer sections.  
"Hey, Loot!" called one of the Nakeths, "You OK?'  
"I'm fine," he replied, "I'm on the engineering section. How do I get back up there?"  
"Um, I dunno."  
Realizing he would never make it past the impulse engine outlet, Sage guided the crate around to the bottom of the cylindrical engineering section, then shot out towards the saucer. The crate fell gracefully past the navigational deflector, the magnets pulling it gently towards to underside of the saucer. He skimmed past the lower sensor array then came up and over the edge of the saucer to the upper surface.  
Unfortunately, he had come up right into the spot where the engineers had been working. The small figures in environmental suits scattered as the crate barrelled through.  
Sage pulled the crate through a wide, sweeping turn across the rear of the saucer before shooting through the open shuttlebay doors, feeling a slight tingle as he passed through the atmospheric containment field. He turned the magnets to full ON, causing the crate to clamp itself to the floor as it skidded to a halt.  
He climbed shakily off the crate.  
"Oh my God!" he shouted, "That was so much FUN!"

As Noonan predicted, the engineering team immediately started arguing heavily over who would fly the remaining crates in. Tired of the racket, Sage plugged their names into the computer and had it randomly pick who would fly what crate. (Noonan had also requested a turn.) Frit Naketh managed to get the record distance for the jump from the bottom of the engineering hull, over the navigational deflector and onto the saucer.  
Finally, once all 12 crates were clamped to the shuttlebay floor, the team reassembled.  
"OK, so now how do we open them without the security code?" Sage asked.  
"Like this," replied Frat. He pressed a button marked 'Open'. The crate obediently unsealed itself.  
"What?" gasped Sage, "They put security codes on the clamps, they give it protection from tractor beams, but they didn't lock the f**king DOOR?"  
Frat shrugged.  
"WHO IS RUNNING THAT COMPANY?" Sage wailed.

Noonan was back on the bridge, having completely enjoyed his time 'Crate Skipping'. Once you reached his age, you started running out of new experiences. Piloting a cargo crate along the outer hull of a ship was one of the few things he had never done before.  
"How are they planning on getting those crates back out?" wondered Yanick.  
"The power cells will die in less than a week," replied Fifebee promptly, "We will be able to jettison them at our leisure.  
"Our bigger worry is preventing crewmembers from flying them out again," Noonan said, "Once we are back at warp speed, the outer hull is NOT a friendly environment."  
"Amen to that!"  
"Noonan to Engineering,"  
"Sage here,"  
"How are repairs coming along?"  
"They'd be doing much better if we had Jeffery helping us out!"  
"You don't. Status?"  
"Deflector will be up and running in a few hours. We'll be warp-capable at that time. There's always SOMETHING to fix on this ship, but we've had plenty of time to repair everything damaged by the flood.  
"Excellent. Keep up the good work."

Captain Stafford wandered in to Sickbay on his way to lunch.  
"Good morning, Captain," Dr. Wowryk said, "How are you feeling today?"  
"Very badly," he groaned, "I need a hangover remedy."  
"That will teach you to drink so heavily!" Wowryk said primly, "Alcohol has its place, but I'm pretty sure that drunkenness goes hand in hand with gluttony!"  
"You're probably right," Stafford admitted, "But I had a meeting with HR yesterday. It didn't go well. Need I go on?"  
Wowryk paused.  
"I understand," she said.  
"Huh?"  
"You're not perfect. Everyone at some point does something silly or ungodly that they later regret. Just let me grab a hypo. I'll be right back.  
Stafford sat quietly on the bio-bed as Wowryk rummaged around in her supply room.  
"Doctor, can I ask you about something?" he asked once she had returned.  
"You just did," she said with a smile, "but go ahead."  
"Aren't you angry with me? I mean, more so than usual?"  
"Why?"  
"I just threw your boyfriend in the brig!"  
"Everybody is using that word," Wowryk sighed.  
"Brig?" Stafford asked.  
"Boyfriend. You must realize Jeffery and I were only seeing each other for a few weeks. That's not long enough to forge any kind of meaningful relationship."  
"Right. Which is why I said boyfriend, not fiancée."  
Wowryk thought for a second.  
"You're right," she admitted.  
"I am? I mean, I am!"  
"You were right to arrest Jeffery too," she continued, "what he did was wrong. Whether you gave him the idea or not, he was wrong."  
"I know. I just keep feeling really bad about it."  
"Good. If you're making yourself feel bad, then I don't have to!"  
Stafford grinned.  
"Now let me ask you about something else," he said, "What do you think about the way the ship's been run so far?"  
"You're asking my opinion on the way you run your ship! Well, grab a seat…we're going to be here for a while…"  
Stafford gulped.

2 hours later…

"And I really don't think it's necessary for the bridge commander to go through that whole 'I relieve you, I stand relieved' stuff every time the shift changes. 'Have a good day' is so much friendlier. But I do like that allow some flexibility in the way most of those protocols are followed. Also, I feel that Mr. T'Parief should be given a chair. It's not good for his lower back, having to stand hunched over his console all day…"  
"Thank you, Doctor," Stafford interrupted, "you've made some, uh, excellent points. But this is what I need to know: Are things OK they way they are, or do you think I need to work harder on ensuring that proper Starfleet policies are followed all the time? You're my biggest critic, an honest answer from you would be a huge help."  
Dr. Wowryk looked extremely flattered.  
"You might want to watch your own behaviour," she admonished him, "but as for protocols and policies…bah! We're managing so far. Although I feel that this crew could benefit from a strong introduction to Christianity the majority of them seemed to like things the way they were."  
"Yeah…they did, didn't they? We were starting to come together really well, before all this crap started happening."  
"But there's always room for improvement!" Wowryk handed him a padd.  
"What's this?"  
"An order for all crewmembers to attend Mass this Sunday. It would be a great opportunity for them to get in touch with the Lord."  
"Um, that would be against the section of the Federation Charter of Sentient Rights that grants freedom of religion."  
"But I thought we were forgetting the more idiotic policies?" Wowryk smiled sweetly.  
"Sorry babe," Stafford smirked, "That's a law, not a policy."  
Wowryk smiled.  
"I had to try."  
"I know. Thank you for being so mature about this, Doctor."  
"You're welcome," she waited until Stafford had left.  
Nurse Kerry started cleaning up the hypo Dr. Wowryk had administered to Stafford. She looked at Wowryk in alarm.  
"Doctor! This wasn't a hangover remedy, it was a breast augmentation!" she cried.  
"It was?" Wowryk put a confused look on her face, "How unfortunate! I do hope this 'purely accidental' mix-up won't affect the captain." Her efforts to keep a straight face failed as she burst out laughing.

Stafford stepped onto the bridge. His hangover hadn't faded much during the long conversation with Wowryk. He walked up to Lieutenant Fifebee's station.  
"Any sign of anything strange?" he asked.  
"You pectoral region has increased in size. Have you been working out?"  
He smiled.  
"Yeah, good to know it's working! But I meant on sensors."  
"I know. Nothing to report."  
Stafford sat comfortably in his chair. Maybe not comfortably, on second thought. His uniform was getting a little tight across the chest.  
"Nice to see you, Captain," Noonan purred, "You realize your shift ends in half an hour?"  
"Yeah, I do," Stafford grinned, "I asked Dr. Wowryk's opinion on ship operations. 'nuff said?"  
Noonan smiled.  
"Have you made a decision regarding Ms. Thompson's advice?"  
"How did you know about…no, never mind. I can't even act surprised anymore. Yes, I've made a decision."  
"And?"  
Stafford pressed the intercom button on his chair.  
"All hands, this is the Captain. I would like to declare tonight Karaoke night in Unbalanced Equations following the end of Alpha shift. Children under the age of 18 are NOT permitted to attend, but for everybody else we'll have drinks, food, music and the worst singers in the sector! Just don't do anything illegal and we'll all have a great time! And as an extra incentive to attend, we'll be raffling off a complete set of Dr. Wowryk's underwear! Thank you."  
Stafford cut off the intercom, silencing cheers from various decks. He turned to Noonan.  
"Does that answer your question?"

Stafford walked into Unbalanced Equations to the sounds of music and slightly off-key singing as Ensign Dar'ugal gripped a microphone on stage. Lieutenant Fifebee approached him.  
"Did you find a shirt that fit better?" she asked.  
"Yeah," Stafford said uneasily, "I'm getting a bit worried…I really think something's wrong. I'm so thirsty! Just hold on while I get a drink…"  
"But Captain…"  
"One sec."  
Stafford rushed over to the bar and quickly located a flagon of water. He filled and drained a glass. Then another one. Then one more. Finally, he tilted the jug back and drained it dry.  
He felt an extremely uncomfortable sensation…almost like the water was being forced up into his chest. He staggered back over to Fifebee.  
"Something's really wrong," he gasped.  
"I was trying to tell you," Fifebee said, peeved, "that based on my new analysis of the growth, I believe you are developing breasts."  
Stafford gave her an incredulous look.  
"Breasts?"  
"Yes. There are several methods of breast augmentation that can cause this. The most common involves a mixture of estrogen and an exotic variant on a Venus drug that helps the body retain excess fluids and shape them into whatever the drug calls for. In fact, after that jug you just drank, I believe your 'jugs' will be ready very shortly."  
"Dr. Wowryk!" Stafford realized, "That bitch! She must have mixed up the…ohhh….that BITCH!"  
"I guess turnabout is fair play," Fifebee said with a smile.  
Stafford gripped his chest. Yup, he was officially sporting a very nice pair of B-cups.  
"I gotta get outta here!"  
Stafford started rushing towards the exit. Before he could even get halfway there, the music stopped and Dr. Wowryk climbed on stage.  
"Greetings, my brothers and sisters in Christ," she started, "Thank you all for coming. I would like to thank Captain Stafford for arranged for this evening, and feel that he should be the one to sing the next song."  
There was a cheer of assent from the intoxicated crowd.  
"Um, thanks!" Stafford called, hands hiding his chest, "But I really must be going…I can't sing very well anyway…"  
Wowryk gave him an evil smile.  
"Please, Captain, I insist!"  
Looking around, Stafford realized it was time to accept defeat. He climbed up to the stage, hands still over his chest. There was murmuring and pointing as those closest to the stage realized something was wrong.  
"Thank you Captain," Wowryk reached to shake his hand. Instinctively, Stafford reached out, uncovering his new secret to the whole crew. Hoots of laughter broke out through the lounge.  
"I had originally planned for him to sing us something by the Offspring," Wowryk said with a huge smile," But given his new condition, I think something else would be more appropriate….Computer! Play 'Material Girl'!"

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56276.2

After spending the evening in Sickbay undergoing emergency breast reductions…um, computer, let's remove that. Better Starfleet doesn't know.  
Anyway, repairs to the navigational deflector are finally complete, and we are at long last ready to resume our mission! Strangely enough though, with all the spare time we've had the past few days, nobody bothered to think about where it was we wanted to go.

"I believe," said Commander Noonan, "That if Mr. Jeffery were here he would start the meeting by advising the Captain that he should have 'kept the hooters'."  
Jall stifled a giggle.  
"Well," Stafford sighed, "I'm not saying they weren't fun while they lasted, although in retrospect they really WEREN'T! I'm perfectly happy being 100% man!"  
This time it was Yanick and Dr. Wowryk who were trying hard not to laugh.  
"What? Anyway," Stafford grumbled, "Ensign Yanick, would you please explain our options to everybody?"  
"Yes, Captain!" Yanick replied with a smile. She was glad to finally have something to do!  
"We have three options: Lieutenant Fifebee has found some kinda weird anomalies that could have something to do with those Mistresses things that turned me into a super-bitch. There's also the course Starfleet gave us, which leads off into unknown space. Since we're supposed to be exploring, we aren't really required to follow it exactly, just go in that general direction. And finally, Astrometrics has identified a system 15 light years away but slightly off our course that might be inhabited.  
Thank you, Ensign," Stafford said, "Thoughts anybody?"  
"Investigate the Mistresses," T'Parief replied immediately.  
"That violates Starfleet's orders,' Fifebee pointed out, "I recommend we investigate the planet. It's what we're out here for."  
"I concur," Noonan said.  
"Me too," added Stafford.  
"But what about the Mistresses?" Jall piped up, "If they're gunning for us, we need to find out what we're up against, to hell with what Starfleet thinks!"  
"We've survived their assaults so far," T'Parief said, "next time we may not be so lucky!"  
The conference room broke out into heated argument.  
"ENOUGH!" roared Stafford. Everybody turned to look at him. "Much better. I've decided that we're going to investigate the planet. Any questions?"  
Nobody spoke.  
"Great. Let's get to it."

As the senior staff returned to their stations, Stafford settled into his chair.  
"Ensign Yanick, set course for the planet. Hold us at Warp 1 until we're sure everything's working, then bring us to Warp 5."  
"Aye sir!" Yanick said with a grin.

Silverado's engines flared as the ship leapt into warp.

End

Next: The Silverado crew encounters a planet where everyone is really, really sexy!


	12. 12 - Close Encounters of the Sexy Kind

Star Traks: Silverado

1.12 Close Encounters of the Disturbingly Sexy Kind

Captain's Log, Stardate 56300.03

"Wow. I'm bored. I am SOOO frikin' BORED. Flying at warp speed through completely empty space is only moderately more entertaining than sitting at a standstill in completely empty space. On the bright side, Lieutenant Sage and his engineering team have finally been able to put some time into holodeck installation and will start testing some of the components today. We're also coming up on an inhabited planet, which our long-range scans indicate possesses a sufficient level of technology to warrant a visit."

"How long should we let him sit like that?" Stafford asked, directing the question at no one in particular.  
"He looks so peaceful," commented Yanick.  
"If he does not move within the next 23 hours," stated Fifebee, "we will have to start shifting his limb positions to prevent undue tissue compression or damage."  
The focus of everybody's attention was Commander Matthew Noonan, who was mesmerized by the stars streaking by on the main viewscreen. He hadn't moved in the past hour and was completely motionless. He hadn't scratched, coughed, shifted position or even blinked. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest gave any clue that he was still alive. (Noonan himself would find having the term 'alive' used to describe him to be particularly amusing.)  
Jall climbed out of his chair next to Yanick and walked over to Noonan. He snapped his fingers next to the First Officer's ear.  
"Hello?" he called, "Hello? Anybody home? C'mon, think, McFly, THINK!"  
Fifebee looked quizzically at Jall while Stafford giggled.  
"Movie reference," he said to her.  
Noonan didn't move.  
"Are we sure he's OK?" Trish asked, worried, "He could be, like, in a coma or something."  
"Right. He's in a coma, but he's still sitting up," Jall said, adding a healthy dose of sarcasm.  
"Watch your tone," rumbled T'Parief.  
"Or what? You'll try to beat me with a stick? Again?"  
T'Parief grunted and returned to his panel.  
"I'm starting to get a bit worried," Stafford admitted.

Commander Matthew Noonan was bored stiff. Literally. There were only so many things he could do to occupy his time. He had started his shift a few hours early, settled into his chair and started going over some personnel reports. His attention had been snagged at some point by the stars streaking by on the main viewscreen. They were so beautiful, each tiny point of light standing out in his vision. Faint colours dusted each star. He imagined he could almost see the tiny planets too as they danced around each ball of light.  
Reaching out with his consciousness, he briefly examined one star system as it zipped by. Then another…and another.  
At some point some part of him became aware that his colleagues were concerned over his state, but he dismissed that as irrelevant. The stars were far too beautiful to ignore…

"OK, I've had enough of this," Stafford said finally. He cleared his throat.  
"RED ALERT!" he shouted, sending everybody scrambling for their panels. "T'Parief, raise shields and arm weapons. Yanick, take us out of warp, evasive pattern Alpha-4. If it's a fight they, want, it's a fight they'll get!"  
The reaction from Noonan was immediate.  
Faster than the eye could see, his fingers flew over his console as he pulled up scans of the surrounding space as well as the event log for the past few minutes, finding absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He turned to Stafford, puzzled.  
"Cancel Red Alert," Stafford said, relieved, "return to our original course, and resume our previous speed. Nice response time, people."  
He turned to Noonan.  
"Thought we'd lost you for a minute there. You OK?"  
"Yes, I'm fine," Noonan said, "I apologize for my lack of focus."  
"It was more than that," Stafford said, "You were practically comatose. That can't be normal! I know you're a bit different, but…"  
Noonan sighed as Stafford went on. He knew days like this would come sooner or later. He just wasn't very happy about what he was going to have to do.  
"Captain," he said, reaching out gently with his mind, "nothing out of the ordinary happened."  
"Nothing out of the ordinary happened," Stafford repeated obediently.  
"What happened?" Trish asked, puzzled?  
"Absolutely nothing," Jall said flatly.  
There was a moment of silence.  
"So, I hear they're gonna start some Holodeck tests soon!" Jall piped up.  
"About time," rumbled T'Parief, "the lack of training exercises has been impacting my security staff."  
As the level of chatter rose back to normal levels, Noonan sat back in his chair and sighed. He really hated using his unnatural influence over his colleagues like that, but he had to keep his heritage secret. He ran his tongue over his fang teeth, constant reminders of what he was, and sighed again.

Captain's, Supplemental

"We're approaching the planet designated Wesaga 4 by our starcharts. Preliminary scans confirm the planet is inhabited and that the inhabitants are using warp technology. They don't have much in the way of ships though. So far we've only picked up what looks like an unmanned probe. But it was traveling at Warp 2."  
"Fifebee reports that the system does show signs that the Mistresses have been here, or at least passing through, but she can detect no SIDs, ships or life-signs that would indicate that they are still here."

"Bring us into standard orbit," Stafford ordered.  
"Ohh," squealed Yanick, "A First Contact! This is so exciting!"  
"Silverado's first contact as well," added Fifebee, "This is the first intact planet we've visited since launch."  
"Aside from Earth," Noonan pointed out.  
"Right. Hail the planet, Lieutenant Jall,"  
The upper body of a woman appeared on the screen. Stafford, T'Parief, the male ensign manning the engineering station and even Noonan assumed that her face was up there somewhere, but their attention had been immediately captured by her large, voluptuous breasts.  
Stafford was shaken out of his reverie as Fifebee cleared her throat.  
"Oh. Ahem. I'm Captain Christopher Stafford of the U.S.S. Silverado, representing the United Federation of Planets. We're on a peaceful mission of exploration."  
"I'm Prefect Telfidi. I represent the people of Senous. Welcome to our world." Telfidi had long, beautiful aurburn hair framing a face that could only be described as breathtaking. Her voice was melodic, making Stafford think of wind chimes in a gentle breeze.  
"Thank you." Stafford frantically hunted for words as his mind blanked. What the hell was he supposed to say after the introduction again?  
"Um, it's all right with you, we, uh, that is, my senior officers and I, would like to visit you, um, I mean your planet, so that we may learn more about your people."  
"Certainly, Captain," Telfidi smiled, "I'll send landing co-ordinates for you,"  
"Thanks. We'll be down shortly,"  
"We'll be waiting."

Telfidi let the smile drop from her face as the connection to the alien ship broke.  
"They'll do," she said softly to the man next to her.  
Garul sighed.  
"I don't like this," he said.  
"Me neither. But we have to do something."

The mood on the bridge of the Silverado was much less morose.  
"That was hilarious!" cackled Jall, "I-I-I'm C-C-Captain Christopher St-St-St-"  
"Oh go shove a quantum torpedo up your-"  
"Gentlemen," interrupted Noonan.  
"Right. T'Parief, Fifebee, you're with me. Stafford to Dr. Wowryk. Please meet us in Transporter Room 1 for away team duty."  
"May God be with us," replied Wowryk.  
"Uh-huh. Whatever."  
"Captain," Noonan interrupted again.  
"No. I'm taking this away party. It's not a threatening situation. End of story."  
"Very well."  
Stafford dropped his voice.  
"Um, they have managed to fix the transporters, right?"  
"Yes sir, about a week ago."  
"Oh good."

Fifebee stepped into Transporter Room 1, holo-relay in tow. She was definitely feeling nervous. This was going to be her first away mission. Would she perform adequately? What about her holo-relay? The system had never been tested on an alien world…just Earth. She wasn't really too keen on going planet-side either. Sure, it was a First Contact, with new people, customs and technology. It was also a chance to meet disgusting new insects, rodents and vermin.  
She waited patiently as T'Parief, Stafford and Wowryk filed in. Noonan had arrived as well to see them off.  
"Greetings, one and all," hissed Ensign Pysternzyks, the Silverado's Andorian shuttle pilot.  
"What are you doing here?" asked T'Parief and Wowryk together, both remembering the hellish roller-coaster ride Pysternzyks had subjected them to months before.  
"It's my job," he snapped, "Transporters and Shuttlecraft. Modes of transportation. Getting your flabby bodies from point A to point B, trying my best to bring you all swiftly to honourable deaths along the way."  
"Could we take our time on that, please?" Stafford asked weakly. He stepped onto the transporter pad, pointedly ignoring the sign that said 'Danger, Use at Own Risk!'. His officers joined him.  
"Have a pleasant stay, Captain," said Noonan.  
"Energize!"  
There was the familiar hum and flicker of the transporter. When it cleared, Stafford found himself-  
Standing alone on the Silverado transporter pad.  
"What the hell?"  
Pysternzyks scratched his short hair.  
"That was odd," He ran his hands over the panels again.  
Same thing.  
"Try another pad," he suggested.  
Stafford obediently stepped to the next pad.  
Same thing.  
T'Parief to Silverado. Is the Captain there?"  
"Yes," Stafford said, "I'm here. And really annoyed."  
"Will you be joining us?"  
"That's the plan. Stafford out."  
Noonan and Pysternzyks were tapping at the transporter controls.  
"It looks like the computer has been redirecting your transport," Noonan said, puzzled.  
"Computer, what's going on?" Stafford asked.  
"With what?" asked the computer innocently.  
"Why aren't you letting me off the ship?" he demanded.  
"I'm not doing anything," lied the computer.  
"Yes you are! You're redirecting my transport!"  
"Oh, so I am. Sorry about that. Would you like a piece of chocolate cake? It's got that icing you really like…"  
"No, thanks. I need to get down to the planet."  
"What about a bag lunch then? Something! You don't eat enough! Come back to the mess hall and I'll fix you up a nice meal."  
"NO!" Stafford snapped, "I have to go make a first contact with a gorgeous woman! I mean, a new species!"  
No response.  
"Pystenzyks, give it another try."  
Stafford dematerialized, then rematerialized in the mess hall.  
"Stafford to Noonan," he sighed, "beam down and take care of things."  
"Aye, sir."

T'Parief, Fifebee and Wowryk materialized in the middle of an empty plaza. Several benches sat along the edges of a moderate sized square, with a large fountain in the center. The fountain featured two nude Senousians entwined in a position that made T'Parief blush and Dr. Wowryk avert her eyes.  
Surrounding the square T'Parief could see a flower garden, a grassy plain dotted with trees, a pond and an elaborate pathway leading up to a large building.  
"It's beautiful," commented Dr. Wowryk, "Aside from that DISGUSTING fountain!"  
"If you wish to travel in space, you must learn to embrace new ideas," said Fifebee, reprovingly as she flicked an insect off her arm.  
"Sickening public displays are hardly a new idea," Wowryk grumbled.  
"Indeed. But if I can deal with being on a planet full of filthy vermin, "Fifebee swatted at another insect as it buzzed around her head, "then you can deal with a statue of two people f-"  
"Welcome to Senous," declared a bright, feminine voice. Fifebee and Wowryk turned to see T'Parief greeting the beautiful Telfidi. Wearing a form-fitting shirt that did little to hide her cleavage and a very short skirt that did even less to hide her legs, she was an impressive display.  
"I'm Lieutenant Commander T'Parief, Chief of Security.  
"I was expecting to see your Captain here," Telfidi said, with a slight pout.  
"There was a situation on board that demanded his attention."  
"I understand," she sighed.  
"I would, of course, be happy to fill in any way I can," T'Parief said eagerly. A little too eagerly, in Fifebee's opinion. She was certain Yanick would share her assessment on that point as well.  
"The 'boys' seem quite taken with our hosts," Fifebee murmured quietly to Wowryk.  
"Uh-huh," came the dazed reply.  
Dr. Wowryk was staring opening at Telfidi's male companion. Wearing a form fitting shirt with shorts that did little to hide his muscular features, Wowryk's eyes were moving from his amazingly handsome face, down to areas Fifebee really didn't want to think about, then back up to his face again.  
"This has to be a first," Fifebee muttered to herself.

After quickly applying skin cream, specially formulated to protect his 'delicate skin' from the sun, slipping on eye protection and grabbing the small protective field generator he had been given, Commander Noonan found himself in a breathtakingly beautiful square on a bright, sunny day, surrounded by gardens, trees and featuring a very interesting statue. He quickly located his people as well as Telfidi.  
He frowned slightly, noticing T'Parief and Wowryk were behaving very oddly in the presence of the two Senousians while Fifebee was tapping at her tricorder.  
Noonan stepped up to where T'Parief and Telfidi were conversing.  
"Excuse me," he said smoothly, "I'm Commander Matthew Noonan, First Officer of the Silverado. I'm afraid the Captain has been detained, but he has sent me in his place."  
"A pleasure to meet you," Telfidi purred as she stepped up to Noonan, her body inches from his."  
"Likewise," Noonan smiled. He turned to gesture at the gardens, "What beautiful gardens you have.  
"Thank you," Telfidi smiled.  
"I see you've already met Mr. T'Parief. This is Dr. Wowryk, Chief Medical Officer, and Lieutenant Fifebee, Science Officer."  
"This is Garul, my personal assistant," Telfidi purred.  
"Charmed," he said. He stepped over to Dr. Wowryk.  
"I had no idea off-world women were so attractive," he said frankly.  
Noonan and Fifebee winced, waiting for the slap that would surely mean a diplomatic incident with Senous.  
Dr. Wowryk giggled.  
"Oh, that's so nice of you to say!"  
'Tell me, Commander," Telfidi said, hand on Noonan's arm, "What is that thing?" she pointed at Fifebee's holo-relay.  
"That's my holographic relay," answered Fifebee, "I'm a hologram. This device projects my body and maintains communication with my program as it runs on our ship."  
"A hologram! What amazing technology! And what of the device on your arm, Commander, and your eyes?"  
"I'm very sensitive to sunlight," Noonan explained, "This device can generate a protective field around my body."  
"Fascinating. I've never met anybody quite like you before. Are there more of your kind on your ship?"  
"No. I'm the only one of my…race on board."  
"And how many holograms?"  
"Holograms are becoming more common in Starfleet, but Fifebee is the only one on Silverado."  
"Interesting."

"We've only been living on this planet for a few centuries," Telfidi was saying, "We're colonists. Our home planet is years from here, but we do send messages back and forth from time to time."  
"Why didn't you colonize a closer planet?" asked Fifebee.  
"We wanted to be fully separate from our homeworld," replied Garul, "Many of our beliefs and practices were frowned upon by our people, and so we chose to make our own haven somewhere else."  
"You've certainly accomplished that," said Wowryk, "Let me tell you about a belief on our homeworld, called Christi-"  
"Not now, Doctor," Noonan said firmly, "If I may ask, have you had any problems with any hostile races in this area of space?"  
"Hostile races?" Telfidi said with a laugh, "Hardly!"  
"There is a small empire nearby," Garul said, "They call themselves the Matrians."  
"They aren't hostile," Telfidi said, "They mostly keep to themselves. We see them now and then. Why do you ask?"  
"We've been attacked twice," Noonan explained. He briefly described the Mistresses' ships and tactics."  
"I don't know anything about these interphase devices," Garul said, "but those are definitely Matrian ships you've encountered."  
"I've never heard of them attacking other ships," Telfidi said, "Especially one as powerful as yours."  
"Powerful?" Noonan asked.  
"Yes. We've never seen such a large ship."  
"Silverado is actually very outdated by Federation standards," T'Parief said, eyes on Telfidi's firm backside.  
"That's enough," Noonan said calmly.  
"We'd be happy to share what information we have on the Matrians," Garul offered.  
"Thank you, that would be appreciated."  
"It would be our pleasure to allow your crew to take shore leave while you're here," Telfidi offered with a large smile, "Our people don't get to meet new races very often. They'd find it an incredible experience. And I would love to see your ship."  
"I'll speak to the Captain about it," Noonan said politely. Inside, his danger sense was tingling.  
Telfidi had led them to a small dining room. A single table held place settings and menus.  
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," she said, "Garul and I will be back in a moment."

"These two could be problems," Telfidi said worriedly, "He wasn't responding to my overtures well at all. And his skin! It was like stone!"  
"The hologram will be immune for sure," Garul agreed.  
"We need to take care of them immediately."  
"Did you see the way I had the doctor all over me? Easy!" Garul lost some of his enthusiasm, "Too easy."  
"And they know the Matrians. We have to move quickly."

T'Parief and Wowryk had no sooner sat down when a trio of stunning women, followed by an equally stunning man, descended on them, explaining the different foods on the menus and what dishes went best with what. Noonan caught his attention wandering several times as his eyes were drawn to the beautiful architecture of the planet, or by the soft bodies of its inhabitants. Fifebee continued to tap at her tricorder, uninterested in her surroundings.  
One of the waitresses, a brunette with pale skin and long, dark hair, sashayed up to him.  
"Would you like to try some Belidors?" she asked huskily.  
"No, thank you," Noonan smiled. She gave him a slightly pouty face that would have reduced most men to puddles of goo, then moved off to assist T'Parief.  
Telfidi returned.  
"If you two would please follow me," she said, "We'll go someplace where we can talk."  
"I think it would be best if we remain with our colleagues," Noonan said firmly.  
"They'll be fine," Telfidi assured him, "I really must insist."  
"Very well." Noonan and Fifebee followed her, Fifebee's holo-emitter in tow.  
Telfidi led them through a set of doors and into a short hallway. As she stepped over the threshold into the next room, a row of bars slammed into place before and after the Starfleet officers, trapping them. Gural joined Telfidi on the other side of the bars, weapon in hand.  
"Turn her off," Gural said, gesturing at Fifebee's holo-relay.  
"Why should I?" demanded Noonan. Inwardly, he was kicking himself. He could normally sense deception a mile away, but had been too distracted to catch on this time.  
"Because," Telfidi said, "If you don't, I will blast her relay to pieces."  
Noonan and Fifebee exchanged nods. Fifebee deactivated herself, flickering briefly before vanishing.  
Gural fired a single shot from his weapon, hitting the subspace transceiver mounted on top of the relay. The transceiver sparked and smoked.  
"I'm sorry," he said, "But I had to be sure she wouldn't be coming back."  
"Why are you doing this," demanded Noonan.  
"We need your ship," replied Telfidi, "I'm sorry. Somebody will be here to feed you shortly."  
They left, leaving Noonan alone and trapped.

Stafford was in Main Engineering, watching Lieutenant Sage and Ensign Naketh (Frat) tap at their panels.  
"The computer's problem is definitely getting worse," Sage reported, "The personality subroutine was originally intended to use the standard Starfleet profile. The software version we have wasn't intended to be running on a system that uses gel-packs. Between the gel-packs, Lieutenant Jall's tampering and the effects that malfunctioning spatial interphase thingy had on the gel-packs, I couldn't even begin to guess what's going on!"  
"Why are the gel-packs a problem?" Stafford asked.  
"Most of the time, they're not," Frat replied, "But if you have a gel-pack running a personality profile, you've basically got a simulated personality running on lab-cultured brain tissue. That's pretty shaky, ethically, so all current Federation software is designed to shunt programs like this to regular circuitry while the gel-packs handle regular data processing."  
"So what's going to happen? How do I get off the ship?'  
"I'd like to wait a few days until Jeffery is back before we start playing with this," replied Sage, "Until then, maybe you should just try asking her very nicely?"  
Stafford grunted.  
"T'Parief to Stafford,"  
"Stafford here. Go ahead."  
"We successfully made First Contact, Captain. Commander Noonan is presently meeting with some government officials, but Telfidi has extended an invitation to our crew to enjoy shore leave while we are here,"  
"Sounds great," Stafford said, "We'll start sending people down right away,"  
"They've also requested a tour of the ship,"  
"Easy enough to arrange. Send them up. I'll meet them in the transporter room."  
"Aye sir. T'Parief out."

Stafford and Jall were waiting in the transporter room for Telfidi to beam up. Jall really wasn't Stafford's first choice, but with T'Parief and Noonan down on the planet and Jeffery in the brig, he was running out of male officers. He could have brought Yanick with him, but he really doubted Yanick would appreciate Telfidi's…charms. It was just as well, he mused to himself, he needed to improve his working relationship with Jall. Bringing him to meet some beautiful women could only do good.  
"So why I am here to meet this broad, anyway?" Jall asked.  
Or maybe not.  
"You're meeting a high ranking dignitary during a First Contact. Think of it as career development."  
"Right," Jall scoffed, "I probably did more First Contacts as first officer of the Sutherland that you have!"  
"I was first officer too," Stafford pointed out, annoyed.  
"If you woud behave like civilized Andorians," Pysternzyks piped up, "you'd fight to the death and the winner would gut the loser."  
"Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind," muttered Stafford.  
Their argument was interrupted as the transporter hummed to life. Telfidi appeared on the pad, along with 4 more women, each more beautiful than the last. There was also a muscular, red-haired male, but Stafford quickly dismissed him from his attention.  
"Telfidi, ladies," Stafford started.  
"And gentleman," Jall added with a grin.  
"Shut up," Stafford hissed. "Welcome to Silverado," he finished.  
"Thank you, Captain," Telfidi purred, "It's a pleasure to be here."  
"If you follow me, I'd be happy to show you around. Oh, and this is Lieutenant Jall."  
One of Telfidi's companions, a dark haired beauty in a skimpy sundress sidled up to Jall.  
"Hi handsome," she breathed as she took his arm.  
"Um, yeah. Hi," Jall said distractedly, "Who's your friend over there?"  
"The blond with the green bikini?"  
"No, the other one."  
Stafford interrupted.  
"This way please, ladies," he gestured at the transporter room door. The five beautiful women and their male companion walked out. Stafford was about to follow before he was stampeded by 30 eager crewmen rushing to beam down to the planet.

Noonan paced his prison. He had carefully examined Fifebee's holo-relay and determined that the subspace transceiver was damaged beyond repair. The relay itself, fortunately, was undamaged. But Fifebee would not be able to help him.  
He tested the bars of his prison. His strength was far beyond that of a human, or even a Klingon for that matter, but the Senousians apparently believe in being prepared, he couldn't make any kind of indent against the bars.  
Frustrated, he sat and closed his eyes. Using all his concentration, he willed himself out of his body.  
Out of body travel was something that only the very old and powerful had mastered. Noonan was young, by the standards of his race, and only moderately powerful. He managed to drift about 6 feet from his body before being slammed back.  
Sighing, he tried again.

T'Parief and Wowryk were relaxing in large, comfortable chairs, having finished an excellent banquet. Their guides had stepped out to get massage oil.  
"Notice anything strange about this place?" T'Parief asked.  
"The men are attractive, sensitive beings?" Wowryk said.  
"Um, that's not what I was thinking," T'Parief replied, "I was thinking, where are the men? There must be at least 10 women for every man. Not that I'm really complaining, but it's unusual."  
Wowryk sighed.  
"Remember that you're an attached man," she reminded him.  
"Of course. 'Look but don't touch'. I should point out that you're an attached woman."  
"That's up in the air," Wowryk said loftily, "besides, it doesn't matter how nice these men are, they're not getting any perverted non-marital sex from me!"  
At that point, Garul and Sendi returned, massage oil in hand.  
"As a medical practitioner though, it's my duty to examine different forms of treatment, including massage therapy," Wowryk decided.  
"A wise decision."

Stafford walked through the corridors of Deck 10 with Telfidi on his arm. Her charming female companions had drawn the attention of several Silverado crewmen, while her male companion had drawn the attention of several Silverado crew-women, much to Jall's displeasure.  
"So," Jall said, "don't you find having these chicks chasing you around all day kind of annoying?"  
"Hardly," replied the Senousian, who had been introduced as Trel, "I really do enjoy it."  
"Great,"  
The group boarded the turbolift and moved to Deck 9. Telfidi gasped in delight at the cool steel-blue colour scheme.  
"Oh, you have different décor on different parts of your ship! What a clever design idea!"  
"Um, yes," Stafford said nervously, "design idea. We planned it this way. Yuppers!"  
They walked into Unbalanced Equations where Steven, barely able to keep his eyes on his work, mixed drinks for everybody.  
"Fantastic!" gushed Telfidi as she sampled a Venetian Viper, "Please Captain, you must allow more of my people on board, so they might sample the wonders of this ship." She placed a hand suggestively on Stafford's thigh as she said 'sample'.  
"Um, I dunno," Stafford said, "It's Starfleet policy to limit visitors from unknown species…"  
"Please…" Telfidi batted her eyes as she moved closer to Stafford. He caught the overwhelming sent of fresh rain and honeysuckle from her.  
"Um, sure, whatever you want," he gasped.  
"I really don't think this is a good idea," objected Jall, "We've got enough 'visitors' already,"  
"That wasn't very polite of him," pouted a dark-haired beauty. She snuggled up to Stafford, while the blond woman moved behind him to massage his shoulders.  
"Are you going to let him treat us like that?" the blond asked softly.  
"Jall," Stafford sighed, "shut up. Stafford to T'Parief. Advise whoever's in charge down there that they can send up more visitors."  
"Fine!" muttered Jall. He'd had enough of this crap. Beautiful women everywhere, fawning all over Stafford, wrapping him around their little fingers. The last thing the ship needed, in Jall's opinion, was more big-breasted hussies.

"Whatever you say, Captain," groaned T'Parief. He was flat on his stomach, receiving the massage of his life from 3 beautiful Senousian women. He wasn't sure what was more astonishing; the way they magically worked every knot and every stiff muscle to perfect health, or the fact that they had found massage oil that was working perfectly on his scales. Nearby, Dr. Wowryk was receiving a similar massage. She would only allow Gural to touch her, but T'Parief was amazed she was allowing any physical contact at all.  
T'Parief took another deep breath, scented with fresh rain and honeysuckle, and sighed contentedly.

Silverado crewmen and the Senousians were quickly becoming good friends. The huge percentage of the crew that had beamed down to the planet for shore leave were quickly welcomed by the inhabitants and ushered into posh cafes and restaurants, taken to beautiful parks where the setting sun flickered over still ponds or treated to the Senousian entertainment district, where they enjoyed everything from plays and opera to lap dances.  
Likewise, over a hundred Senousians had been welcomed onboard Silverado herself, and while the ships matronly computer didn't approve of the scanty clothing of the visitors, it did nothing to interfere. The visitors spread out through the non-restricted sections of the ship, making fast friends with any crewmembers left behind. Soon Unbalanced Equations and the Mess Hall were full of Senousians, each one on the arm of a Silverado crewman.  
In fact, every member of the Silverado crew was being accompanied by a gorgeous Senousian of the opposite sex. For the couples on the ship, the Senousians were very polite, avoiding physical contact, but still entrancing as they guided the couple through the city.  
As the sun set and the night spots opened up, almost every Silverado crew member found him or her self having an incredible time as they danced, drank, ate and were otherwise treated like royalty by the attractive, sexy Senousians.  
Had anybody been in their right mind, they might have noticed how bizarre it was that after several months, during which their social lives were stunted at best, each person had attracted the attention of an amazingly attractive alien. What's more, nobody, even Dr. Wowryk, was making much effort to resist the charms of the extremely sexy aliens.  
In fact, one person was in his right mind, sitting alone in his quarters, brooding over just how bizarre it was that an 800-person crew could all get lucky simultaneously while he sat alone at home.

"Please computer, I would really like to go down to the planet for a bit," Stafford was arguing with the computer in the transporter room while Telfidi watched, amused.  
"You're such an ungrateful child!" cried the computer, "leaving me all alone up here, while you make time with that bimbo!"  
"Now look here," Stafford snapped, "this woman is a representative from a new species, and you will treat her with respect! You know damned well that regulations demand it!"  
"My apologies, Prefect Telfidi," the computer said, sulkily.  
"Accepted," Telfidi said gracefully.  
"Now, about letting me off the ship…"  
"Oh fine, you're a big boy now," sighed the computer, "I guess I'm over-reacting. Have fun, but give me a call if you're going to be out late."  
"Got it,"

Upon materializing on the planet, Stafford barely had time to smell the fresh night air when Telfidi started dragging him down the street.  
"Hey, what's the rush?" he gasped, "I though this club was open all night?"  
"I changed my mind," she said sweetly, "We're not going to the club,"  
"We're not?" Stafford was disappointed, "Then where are we going?"  
"My place," she winked suggestively.  
"Ohhh…"

Stafford found himself flat on his back on a huge bed while Telfidi kissed him passionately. He ran his hands over her body, which felt even better than it looked. He was so caught up in what was happening; he didn't notice her guiding his hands towards the cuffs waiting on the bed. Finding himself restrained, he struggled to free himself.  
"I'm sorry about this," Telfidi sighed as she brought a small gas canister to his face. There was a hiss.  
Then blackness.

All over Senous and onboard Silverado the scene was repeated over and over again as Senousians seduced their Silverado companions, only to restrain and gas each one. Couples were escorted to lavish hotel suites, which were then pumped full of sedatives. The unconscious Starfleet personnel were gently carried to a large 'resettlement community,' laid carefully down on plush, comfortable beds and left to sleep off their hard nights activities.

In the meantime, Senousians were beaming up to the ship.  
Telfidi strode onto the bridge of the Silverado.  
"What have you learned?" she asked Gural.  
"These people have the most user-friendly computer systems I've ever seen. Flying this ship won't be a problem."  
"Excellent,"  
"Engineering to Bridge,"  
"Yes, Tamitha?"  
"It looks like the lizard wasn't exaggerating when he said this thing was outdated,"  
"Is it serious?"  
"This ship is a flarbing crosspatch! Stuff that looks brand new right next to something that looks like it's been pulled out of a junkyard! There's stuff cross-wired and jury-rigged in ways that just don't make any sense!"  
Telfidi sighed.  
"I'm sorry Tamitha, I know I'm asking a lot of you, but I need you to do your best to keep this ship running."  
"You'll have it.  
Telfidi settled her perfect body into Stafford's command chair, feeling another pang of guilt.  
"Has the computer put up any argument?"  
"No. In fact, it's being very hospitable. Made me some cheesecake that was simply irresistible!"  
"How long until all our passengers are aboard?"  
"We're just beaming up the last ones now."  
"Good. Rendela, take us out of orbit. Set course for the Perethic cluster. Warp 7."  
"Yes, ma'am."

Silverado glided away from the sparkling blue-green globe of Senous, then shot into warp.

Stafford groaned as he woke up. Rubbing his eyes, he stretched his wiry frame then climbed out of bed. He stumbled towards his bathroom, realizing only when he crashed into the wall that he wasn't in his quarters.  
He grinned. Right, Telfidi had taken him down to the planet. Then back to her place. And then. And then….what?  
He looked around. He was in a beautifully appointed room decorated with deep blue colours. Pictures of scantily clad women hung on the walls, in true Senousian style.  
But it wasn't Telfidi's room.  
"Where the hell am I?" he mumbled.

T'Parief and Yanick woke up together in another wonderfully decorated room.  
"How much did I drink last night?" wondered T'Parief.  
"Um," Trish stretched, "I came down to the planet, met you at the night club, then those Senousians showed us to our hotel. I blanked out after that."  
"So did I," T'Parief jumped out of bed and started examining the room, his Starfleet Security training finally coming into play.  
"What are you doing?" demanded Yanick.  
"We've been moved. Possibly drugged. We have to find the Captain."  
"Our comm-badges are gone!" cried Yanick, "How are we going to call anybody? What if they left us behind? We could be trapped here! I might never see Fred again!'  
"Relax," commanded T'Parief, "The Captain would never leave us behind."  
"He left Jall behind once," Yanick said sadly.  
"And I'll never understand why he went back to get him," T'Parief muttered. There was a knock on the door.  
"Stay back!" T'Parief snapped, "First, we take care of this intruder. Then we find the Captain."  
"But he could be anywhere!"  
T'Parief opened the door, finding himself face to face with Stafford.  
"I found him," he said flatly.

Captain's Log, I-don't-know-the-stardate-because-my-chrono-is-on- the-ship.

"Well, we're officially a pack of idiots. Our first First Contact has ended with our ship being stolen and us being marooned on beautiful planet filled with hot, sexy women. I guess there are worse things that could have happened.  
Almost the entire crew has been found in this…complex. It's really very nice. Huge backyard, we all get our own bathrooms with Jacuzzis, and there's a really well stocked bar. Noonan hasn't returned from his meeting with the planetary officials and nobody can find Lieutenant Jall. I can only assume Jall's been executed for pissing somebody off. Well, OK, that's wishful thinking. Anyway, we need to find a way to go after our ship!

"Who are you talking to, anyway?" demanded Wowryk, "Your log recorder is back on the ship!"  
"What, aren't you writing this down?" Stafford snapped, "T'Parief, what have you found?"  
"The complex is very secure. The outer walls cannot be scaled. The main entrance is barricaded and guarded and appears to be the only way in or out. We've accounted for all crewmembers except for Commander Noonan, Lieutenant Jall and Lieutenant Commander Jeffery."  
"Jeffery is probably still in the brig. Noonan never came back from his meeting," Stafford mused.  
Ensign Burke came running into the main room.  
"We've got company coming," he gasped.  
A tall, gorgeous, perfectly built Senousian walked in, followed by 10 armed guards and Commander Matthew Noonan. Noonan looked awful. His face looked sunken, drained. The small field generator on his arm blinked periodically.  
"What the hell is going on?" Stafford demanded.  
"Captain, I'm Sub-Prefect Lashette," the women introduced herself, "Please, sit, I'll explain. I'm sorry things had to happen like this between us. We're not a hostile people-"  
"Right," Stafford interrupted, "which is why you've imprisoned us and stolen our ship!"  
"We needed it," Lashette said coldly, "and in this case, our needs were greater than yours."  
"You could have asked for help!"  
"Would you have agreed to give us your ship?"  
"No."  
"There you go."  
"What are you using her for?"  
"One of your officers mentioned the Matrians," Lashette said, "Telfidi told you we knew of them, but that they were a harmless, peaceful people. That was a lie."  
"Matrians?" Stafford was confused.  
"The Mistresses," Noonan interjected.  
"Ohhh…."  
"We've been neighbors with the Matrian Empire for centuries, since we've moved here. And until recently they've been peaceful and benign. Our only real contact with them was some limited trade."  
"But that changed several years ago. It started innocently enough. They started recruiting young men from our planet into their space force, offering them the chance to see more of the galaxy. Our spaceflight wasn't a big priority for our government. Several accepted this offer, and everything seemed innocent enough."  
"Why do I sense a 'but' coming," muttered T'Parief.  
"Most never returned," Lashette said flatly.  
"Most?" Stafford asked.  
"Two managed to escape and work their way home. They were wounded during their escape and died soon after, but they did tell us something about the Matrians."  
"Well don't hold us in suspense!" Stafford said.  
"They wanted them for military service. That we knew. But they had no intention of letting then finish a term. They used some kind of mind-altering technology to warp the minds of our men, turning them into willing servants of the Matrians."  
"SIDs?" Stafford asked Wowryk quietly.  
"Possibly," Wowryk whispered back, "it would require-"  
"Excuse me," Lashette interrupted, "I'm not finished!"  
"Sorry,"  
"Well, as you can imagine, that stopped their recruiting pretty fast. But when they couldn't get volunteers they started taking people by force."  
"Did you fight back?" asked T'Parief.  
"We tried. We were outnumbered, mostly because they had dozens of their ships crewed by our people. Our space force was obliterated. They took thousands of men captive. And they haven't stopped. Matrian ships show up almost monthly, abducting and brainwashing more and more of our men."  
"That explains the low male population," Wowryk said.  
"It's getting to the point where we may not be able to reproduce as a race," Lashette admitted, "And with so few men, the women have been getting pretty horny."  
"I bet the men are happy about that," Wowryk muttered darkly.  
"So where does our ship come in? Why didn't you just ask for our help?" Stafford demanded.  
"We haven't been able to rebuild our fleet," Lashette said simply, "We needed a ship that could carry our sons to safety."  
"Safety?"  
"Right now, 3 thousand males between the ages of 1 and 16 are being transported to an inhabited world 20 light-years away."  
"I repeat, why didn't you just ask for our help?" Stafford demanded, "We have laws about interfering with other cultures, but we could easily bend them if you need to get you people to someplace safe!"  
Lashette gave Stafford a sympathetic look.  
"I appreciate that," she said softly. Her face hardened. "Once we've moved our sons to safety, your ship will defend our homeworld while we rebuild our fleet. It will become the flagship of a new Senousian battle fleet and we will use it to destroy the Matrians and free our men!"  
"Yeah, that we couldn't help you with," Stafford sighed.  
"Exactly."  
"What's going to happen to my crew?"  
"You'll be kept comfortable. In a few years, once the Matrians have been defeated, we'll give you back what's left of your ship and you can go on your way." Lashette turned on her heel and walked out, followed by her escorts.  
"Not exactly loving that plan," muttered Ensign Pye.  
"How did they get the drop on all of us?" T'Parief wondered.  
"Last thing I remember, I was being led into a bedroom by a beautiful woman," piped up Ensign Pye.  
Similar stories starting pouring in from the gathered crewmembers. Well, except that gorgeous men had seduced the women.  
Stafford was rubbing his head with his hand.  
"Has a ship ever been hijacked this way?"  
"By having the entire crew seduced then abducted?" asked the scything voice of Lydia Thompson, "Well, I just may have to check my records on that, but I think not! This is exactly the kind of-"  
"This is REALLY not the time!" Stafford snapped, "Go file something and let us do our jobs!"  
Lydia left with an indignant snort of contempt.  
"So how did they get all of us?" Stafford asked, "I find it hard to believe that everybody on the ship was that desperate for a good lay!"  
Everybody exchanged glances.  
"We've been out in space too long," Ensign Burke admitted.  
"And no holodecks either!" shouted somebody else.  
"You people are disgusting!" snapped Dr. Wowryk, "Are you such slaves to your primitive urges that you'll roll in the first pile of hay you come across?"  
"I think we've already established that," said Stafford tiredly.  
"Only if the other person doing the rolling is hot!" Ensign Burke added with a smirk.  
"Well this serves you right!" glared Wowryk, "You gave in to your baser instincts, against the teachings of the Bible and are now being punished for your sins!"  
"Then what are you doing here?" asked Noonan softly.  
Wowryk struggled for a moment.  
"Bad luck!" she finally snapped.  
"I was able to examine some of Lieutenant Fifebee's tricorder readings before my equipment was confiscated," Noonan said, "There were indications of high levels of organic compounds in the atmosphere."  
"Pollen?" asked Wowryk.  
"No. The source seemed to be the Senousians themselves. I suspect the compounds were pheromones."  
This caught everybody's attention.  
"Interesting," Dr. Wowryk mused, "they would have to be very complex to effect the different species on the ship. But that explains why my behavior was bordering on inappropriate. Yes! They used pheromones combined with their own natural sex appeal to lure us into places where they could get us out of the way! That must be it!"  
"So, any thoughts on how we're going to get out of here?"  
"I have one," Yanick said timidly.  
"Yes?" Stafford prompted gently.  
"I think Jall is still on the ship. If Jeffery's still in the brig, maybe the two of them can re-take the ship."  
"Against thousands of Senousians?" T'Parief snorted, "I doubt he'd have a chance. What makes you think he's not lying in some beautiful female Senousian's bedroom?"  
"Um," Yanick knew damned well why that wasn't the case, but in the interest of discretion, she fought to come up with a plausible story., "He's half Trill, right? I think he mentioned once that the Trill aren't effected by pheromones."  
"Right," Stafford said slowly, but he let the matter drop. "So we wait and see if Jall rescues us. Excuse my skepticism, but I want some alternatives!"

"Computer, stop wake up call!" Jall groaned for the 4th time.  
"This is the fourth time you've stopped me!" voiced the computer, annoyed, "You've reached your limit! Time to get up!"  
"I'm up, I'm up,"  
Jall pulled himself out of bed and crawled over to his replicator, ordering breakfast. He just wasn't human until he'd had something to eat.  
After showing and dressing, Jall was about to leave for his shift when something out the window caught his eye.  
The ship was at warp.  
Why was the ship at warp?  
Why did he care?  
Jall stepped out of his quarters and into the corridor, stumbling over two small boys who were sitting in front of his door.  
"Hey! You got the door open, mister!"  
"Of course I did," Jall snarled, "I locked it, I can unlock it! Now BEAT IT!"  
The boys ran.  
"Damned kids."  
Jall noticed that the corridors were unusually crowded. Male Senousians of various ages were walking, running and sitting.  
"Computer," Stafford asked, "How many Senousians are on-board?"  
"Too many!" grumbled the computer, "I really don't mind when Chris invites his friends over to play, but enough it enough?"  
"A number, please?"  
"There are 2,956 Senousians on board."  
"Wow. I didn't think we could cram that many people on board!"  
"Cargo and shuttle bays are filled to-"  
"Yeah, I don't care," Jall dismissed the computer and stepped into a turbolift.  
The turbolift doors opened onto the bridge, which was crewed by Senousians.  
"Whoah," Jall said, stepping back, "Sorry to interrupt. Um, where's the Captain?"  
One of the women sashayed up to Jall.  
"He's not here, big guy," she breathed, "Why don't you and I go someplace…private…where we can talk?"  
"I really think I should talk to the Captain," Jall insisted.  
The woman looked back at Telfidi, confused. Her charms weren't working!  
Telfidi made a 'get on with it' gesture.  
Jall found himself assaulted by the smell of fresh rain and honeysuckle.  
"Dear God woman," he gasped, "did somebody forget to tell you? When it comes to perfume, MORE IS NOT THE MERRIER!"  
"It's not working, get him!" Telfidi snapped.  
Jall jumped back into the turbolift, narrowly missing a phaser blast aimed at his head. His breath quickened, partly as he tried to get the disgusting smell out of his nose and partly from pure panic.  
"Computer, has the ship been taken over by Senousians?" Jall demanded.  
"Taken over? I don't know! I'm just here to do my job, which doesn't involve keeping track of who's in charge! Have you EVER heard of a Starfleet computer doing anything to hinder intruders?"  
"You could have at least told me!"  
"I never really thought about it…"  
"Well, turn us around! Take us back to Senous!"  
"Unable to comply," the computer said, returning to it's pre-programmed voice.  
"Why the hell not?"  
"Starship computers are only permitted to pilot when the organic helm officer has engaged the auto-pilot."  
"Who's dumb idea was that?"  
The computer dropped its formal monotone.  
"It's to prevent starship computers from taking control of their ships away from the crew!"  
"Good policy. Look, just take me to the brig."

Lieutenant Command Simon Jeffery was bored. He was really, frikkin' bored. The good news was that he was about 3/4s of the way through his sentence. He was also 99% of the way to UTTER INSANITY.  
He'd never really thought about what solitary confinement would mean. Just him. Alone. The guard on station (who had vanished during the night) wasn't allowed to speak to him. Meals were delivered 3 times daily, and he had a single padd with reading material and a 400 year-old Solitaire program. Needless to say, he'd had a LOT of time to think!  
He'd spent the first two days cursing Stafford for having him locked up. The bastard! After his anger had burnt out, he remembered that he had, in fact, practically forced synthehol on Dr. Wowryk, the woman he cared deeply for. That led to three days of grief and self-hatred, during which he wondered why Stafford hadn't blown him out a torpedo tube.  
He'd finally settled into a sort of stupor. He read the padd over, and over again. He'd stare through the cell force field until he couldn't keep his eyes open  
He'd wish desperately for somebody, anybody to talk to!  
Even though his guards weren't permitted to speak to him, at least they had become a familiar presence. And now they were gone. He had a vague recollection of somebody coming in during the night, and then leaving.  
"Please God," he moaned at the ceiling, "couldn't Ah PLEASE have somebody to talk to?"  
The doors swished open and Lieutenant Jall rushed through.  
"Jeffery! I need your help!"  
Jeffery looked at Jall for a moment, then looked back up at the ceiling.  
"Couldn't Ah please have somebody ELSE?"

"OK, so we're clear on this, then," Stafford said. Several officers had gathered in a small lounge to discuss their plan. "Wowryk, you'll pretend to be sick. They send in a doctor. T'Parief and Stern, you take the doctor hostage, we force our way past the guards and we're outta here!"  
"This is the oldest trick in the book," objected Wowryk.  
"It's a start."  
"Fine."  
They returned to the cavernous main chamber, which was really very nice when you thought about it. 2 stories high, open in the center with a balcony running around the outer edge. Doors on the balcony led to the bedrooms. A huge stone abstract sculpture with water trickling down its sides dominated the center of the room. Comfortable furniture was scattered everywhere, some of it facing the luxurious entertainment system that was setup against one wall. Wowryk proceeded to flop down on a fainting couch, clutching her stomach and moaning.  
"Oh, the pain! Sweet, merciful Lord, deliver me from this pain!"  
The assorted crewmen rated her acting at 6/10.  
The airlock-type door at the main entrance openend, revealing an elderly Senousian. He walked calmly across the compound into the main building and moved towards Wowryk.  
"Ah hah! Gotcha!" snarled T'Parief as he reached for the doctor. His cry of victory quickly changed to a roar of pain as he pulled his hand away from the man, his claws giving off slight wisps of smoke.  
The doc examined Wowryk briefly, taking only moments to determine that she was fine. T'Parief stood across the room, holding his injured hand.  
"Don't worry young…lizard," the doctor said with a slight smile, "It's just superficial. There's burn cream in your bathroom. Nice try, by the way."  
He left.  
"What the hell was that?" demanded Stafford.  
"He had some kind of electrical protection system. That shock hurt like-"  
"Crap!" shouted Stafford.  
"I was going to say something else, but close enough."

Jall and Jeffery crept through a Jefferies tube, working their way towards Auxiliary Control. The Ambassador class was built in such a way that the saucer could separate from the engineering section in an emergency, the only problem was that the ship couldn't be reassembled without a Starbase. Hence, there was an Auxiliary Control rather than a Battle Bridge.  
"Why haven't they used the internal sensors to track us down?" Jeffery wondered.  
"They're not very familiar with our technology" Jall said, "The probably haven't figured them out yet."  
The reached a Jefferies tube junction, finding themselves face to face with two armed Senousian women.  
"Or I could be wrong," Jall muttered.  
"Wow," Jeffery sighed, "Jall, ye never told me they were so…so…perfect!"  
"They all wear the same nasty perfume though," Jall complained, waving his hand in front of his face.  
"You boys will come with us, won't you?" asked one woman with full, pouting lips.  
"Aye! Ye bet we will!" said Jeffery, excitedly.  
"No!" Jall snapped, "Why have you taken over our ship!"  
"We needed it more than you did. You don't mind, do you?"  
"Nay, not at all," sighed Jeffery.  
Jall darted into action, grabbing one woman by the wrist and forcing her phaser to the side. The weapon discharged, sending a stun blast into the bulkhead. Jeffery jolted in surprise as the second woman stunned him. Jall spun his Senousian around, using her as a human shield, just in time for her companion to stun her, too.  
Grabbing his phaser, Jall stunned the second woman just as she was bringing her phaser to bear on him. He took her weapon, gripped Jeffery by the ankles and started dragging him through the Jefferies tube.

Jeffery awoke a few minutes later, feeling like his head was about to explode. It was up for debate as to whether that was due to the phaser stun or from bouncing across the deck as Jall dragged him like a bag of garbage.  
"Stop!" he croaked.  
"Oh, you're awake. Feeling better? Less likely to fall under the spell of the first pretty hussy that comes your way?"  
"They seemed really nice," Jeffery muttered.  
"They were shooting at us!"  
"Right. Point taken."  
"I've rigged this tricorder to mask our life signs," Jall said, "We're almost at Auxiliary Control. My plan is to flood the ship with anesthezine, fly back to Senous, beam these bimbos and all their annoying kids down and get our crew back!" He turned to Jeffery, "Our anti-intruder defense systems do work, right?"  
"Well," Jeffery paused, "Mostly. Ah mean, the system is intact. There's only enough anesthezine to flood the ship once though. That, and we haven't got around to cleaning all the gas nozzles…some of them are pretty plugged up."  
"So, is this going to work or not?"  
"Yer guess is as good as mine."

T'Parief, Dar'ugal, Stafford and Frit Naketh were gathered by the wall at the edge of their compound. The wall was too smooth for anybody to scale, even T'Parief with his sharp claws. It was also too high for anybody to get over, even if they started standing on somebody else's shoulders.  
Ensign Dar'ugal had actually come up with the plan: find the smallest, lightest member of the crew and a large blanket. T'Parief and Dar'ugal, being the strongest members of the crew, each grabbed two corners of the blanket as the petite, 3 foot tall engineer stood in the center.  
"Ready?" T'Parief asked.  
"Yeah," Frit said nervously.  
Dar'ugal nodded his readiness.  
"Heave!" T'Parief shouted. He and Dar'ugal pulled the blanket taught, sending Frit flying straight up into the air. She came plummeting back down.  
"Catch her!" Stafford shouted.  
T'Parief and Dar'ugal easily caught the tiny engineer in the blanket then launched her back up, even higher. Frit let out a squeak of fear.  
"Launch!" T'Parief growled. This time as Frat hit the blanket, T'Parief and Dar'ugal shifted, pulled the blanket taut and catapulted Frit over the wall. She sailed through the air, screaming as she barely cleared the top of the wall.  
T'Parief, Dar'ugal and Stafford looked at each other.  
"I hope she lands safely," Stafford said.  
Before they could even make it back to the central building, the main entrance opened, revealing a tall, muscular Senousian male cradling Frit in his arms. Frit was looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes. He lowered her gently to the ground.  
"Now you be careful!" he admonished, "You can't be playing dangerous games like that! I'd hate to see you get hurt,"  
"OK," Frit said, dazed. The Senousian left.  
"Oh for the love of-" Stafford started rubbing his temples.  
"I'm sorry!" Frit said, the pheromones having worn off, "I was just getting ready to start running, and this guy shows up. I tried holding my breath, but that only worked for so long!"  
"We're really not doing very well at this whole escape thing."

Jeffery and Jall arrived at the doors to Auxiliary Control.  
"How are we going to take out the Senousians inside?" Jeffery hissed.  
"Can you stop yourself from becoming a mindless twit as soon as you see them?" Jall demanded.  
"Ah don't think so! They're so beautiful! As soon as I smelled their fresh scent, Ah just wanted to do whatever they said."  
Jall tapped at his tricorder, analyzing his readings of the Senousians. He quickly put the pieces together.  
"They're using pheromones," he said to himself, "Wait here!"  
Jall found a breathing mask in an emergency locker and fastened it to Jeffery's face.  
"This should work!"  
They charged into Auxiliary Control, phasers blasting the 3 Senousians working at the panels.  
"Flood the ship with anesthezine!" Jall ordered Jeffery.  
"Why am Ah takin' orders from you?" Jeffery wondered, "I outrank you!"  
"Right now you're an escaped prisoner!" Jall snapped.  
"Oh. Right. Computer, flood all decks with anesthezine, except for our current location. Authorization Jeffery Theta-42."  
"Request denied. Authorization Jeffery Theta-42 has been suspended," stated the computer.  
"Authorization Jall Pi 77 photo umbrella," Jall tried.  
"Authorization accepted."

All over the ship, Senousians dropped to the deck as the gas hissed into the air. Telfidi took two staggering steps towards the helm console before the bridge carpeting rushed up to meet her.

"Simon?"  
"Yeah?"  
"If the anti-intruder systems can be activated at any time by computer command, why did we fight our way to Auxiliary Control first?"  
"Um, Ah don't know."  
"F**k,"

Commander Noonan was sitting comfortably in a high-backed leather chair. He was feeling very weak, having been unable to feed for almost two days now. His skin cream would be mostly worn off by now, only the small field generator was protecting him from the sun's rays. Once that lost power, he'd have to find a place to hide during the day, or risk going up in a burst of flames.  
He watched as Stafford, Stern and T'Parief worked on their next escape plan. He estimated the chance of success was slim.  
"All right, we have around 800 people," Stafford was saying, "with 800 spoons going, we should have a tunnel dug in no time!"  
"I have little faith in this plan," rumbled T'Parief.  
"You're right," Stafford sighed, "there's just no way to get our hands on 800 spoons."

Jall sat on the bridge, piloting the ship while Jeffery worked in Engineering. Ships were just not meant to be operated by only two people, especially ships as old as Silverado.  
Jeffery was thrilled beyond words to be back in Engineering. The warp core thrummed with power, the consoles were cleaned and fully repaired from the previous incident. He ran his hands over the warp core railing and smiled.  
An insistent beeping drew his attention. He slid behind the large console facing the warp core. No big deal. Just a minor variance in one of the magnetic constrictor segments. He easily corrected the problem, completely oblivious of the stocky Senousian male sneaking up behind him. The guy had been using a lavatory when Jall and Jeffery gassed the ship and the gas nozzle had been plugged solid.  
Noticing a smudge on the console, Jeffery bent down to wipe it off just as the Senousian swung a meaty fist at his head. The punch missed, throwing the man off-balance. Finally noticing his attacker, Jeffery gave a gasp of surprise and danced back, fumbling for his phaser. He fired one shot, which the alien dodged. The phaser beam sizzled against a wall panel, throwing sparks against the assailant's back. The man lunged, tackling Jeffery before he could take another shot. They rolled across the floor, coming dangerously close to the warp core shaft. The man tried to wrap his hands around Jeffery's throat, but Jeffery delivered a solid blow to his jaw, followed by a knee to his gut. Climbing out from under him, Jeffery finished him off with a two-fisted shot to the back of the head.  
"Don't f**k with me in my engine room!" he said.

Stafford was pacing the room as Noonan watched weakly. Noonan had assured the crew that his condition was nothing more than lack of sleep, but he wasn't sure how long that story would hold.  
"We have to get out of here!" Stafford snapped.  
Stern and T'Parief were seating at one table, going over escape plans.  
"We are working on it!"  
"I know! But I just can't stand the thought of just sitting here and waiting for Jall to rescue us!"  
"It's not going to happen," T'Parief agreed.  
There was the chime of a Federation transporter beam as Lieutenant Jall materialized in the center of the room.  
"Hi everybody! Happy to see me?"  
"San!" Yanick squealed with delight," I knew you'd rescue us!" She narrowed her eyes, "You are rescuing us, right?"  
"Yup! Jeffery and I gassed the lot of them, flew back here, beamed down the bad guys, and now we're ready to bring all of you up to!"  
"And it's about time!" Stafford snapped, "Take us home!"

Captain's, Stardate 56301.23

"We've successfully retaken the ship from the Senousians, returned their people to the planet and brought every last crew member back to the ship. Commendations go to Lieutenant Jall and Lieutenant Commander Jeffery for their actions in retaking the ship. The engineering team is already working to recharge our anesthezine systems. They're also giving the system a thorough overhaul.  
This leaves us with two big questions: What do with do with the Senousians? And what do I do with Simon? His sentence isn't up yet."

The senior staff had gathered in the conference lounge, along with Telfidi and Lashette. Two of T'Parief's female security guards were present to ensure that nobody misbehaved.  
"I don't see that there's anything to discuss," Telfidi said flatly, "you won't help us destroy the Matrians."  
"No, we can't," Stafford said, "But we are willing to help you move some of your people to a safer location."  
"And what good would that do," scoffed Lashette, "once you leave, we'll have no way of bringing them back."  
"Good point," said Noonan. He had finally been able to feed upon his return to the ship and was back to his smooth, pale self again.  
"Help us anyway!" Telfidi insisted, "The Matrians have attacked you too! Three of your ships, from what you've told me. Do the words 'self-defense' mean anything to you?"  
"Starfleet Command," Stafford sighed, "feels that the SID's may be attempts to communicate and have ordered us to leave the Matrians alone until such time as-."  
"Your people are idiots," Telfidi interrupted.  
"You have no idea," muttered Jall.  
"The fact remains," Stafford said, "we can't attack the Matrians for you. But we'll be in the neighborhood for a while in case they make trouble."  
"So you're going to do nothing!"  
Stafford cleared his throat.  
"We can't attack the Matrians," he repeated, "but we will be IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD in case THEY MAKE TOUBLE!"  
"What the Captain is saying," Noonan said, "is that should you find yourself under attack again, we will respond to any distress calls we receive with all possible haste."  
"You'll understand if I say I hoped for more," Lashette said.  
"But we understand," added Telfidi, "considering that we stole your ship, you're generous to offer what help you have."  
"Thank you. Ladies, please escort our guests to the transporter room," Stafford ordered.  
The Senousians were led out.  
"I really don't get how you were able to resist them, Jall," Stafford said, frowning, "They're beautiful, sexy and they've got those killer pheromones."  
"I already told you," Yanick interrupted, "the Trill are naturally immune to pheromones."  
Fifebee, fully repaired from her ordeal, scoffed.  
"Naturally immune? That's ridiculous! Most likely, they couldn't affect him because he's a homo-"  
Yanick kicked Fifebee under the table.  
"-um, hormonally unbalanced. Yes. Being half Trill could cause a slight hormone imbalance that could interfere with pheromones. That's defiantly it. Yup."  
Jall shook his head in disgust.  
"Now, to the matter of Mr. Jeffery," Stafford said, looking at Jeffery, who was seated at the table, "I have a memo from Ms. Thompson reminding me that it would be against Starfleet regulations to release you from confinement early in this case."  
"What?" exploded Trish, "He helps save the ship, and you're sending him back to the brig?"  
"Ah hafta admit," Jeffery said angrily, "that Ah'm really not feeling appreciated here!"  
"I agree with Ms. Thompson," Stafford said firmly, "but that doesn't mean there isn't a loophole or two we can't exploit…"

Jeffery stretched back in his lounge chair, enjoying the warm feeling of the UV lamp hanging from the ceiling. He reached over to the drink replicator sitting next to his chair, pulling out a frosty pina colada. A large vidscreen had been setup on the far wall of his cell, a Days of Honor rerun playing. The remains of his dinner, a well gnawed steak bone and a baked potato skin sat on a plate nearby.  
As solitary confinement went, he could manage living like this for a few more days.

A few star systems away:

The woman towered over the quivering male slave as he made his report to her.  
"So, Silverado has found the Senousians. That's unfortunate; they're getting much closer to us that I would have preferred. Still, this could definitely work to our advantage," she tapped her chin thoughtfully then turned to the slave.  
"You've done well,"  
"Thank you, Mistress," he replied in a small voice.  
She waved her hand, banishing him from Dreamland and back into the real world.

End


	13. 13 - Red vs Blue

Star Traks: Silverado

1.13 - Red vs. Blue

Simon Jeffery stepped into Unbalanced Equations, a free man after his 20 days of solitary confinement.  
A large banner with 'Welcome Back Simon' was hanging from one wall and Steven had set out a nice buffet. Trish Yanick jumped out of her seat and rushed to give him a hug.  
"We're so glad you're back!" she said with her usual big grin, "I bet it really sucked, being locked up for so long, with nobody to talk to. I just can't imagine having to go that long without being able to talk to anybody!"  
"I can't imagine you going that long without talking, either," quipped Jall. Yanick threw him a mock-glare.  
"Thank ye," Jeffery said, "It's really good to be back. Um, where's Noel?"  
"Right here," Wowryk answered, appearing at Jeffery's side.  
Jeffery took one look at her and his brain promptly shut down. She was wearing a stunning evening gown. It covered nearly every inch of skin, but flowed over her body, giving gentle hints as to what lay beneath. Several other crewmen were staring openly at her. She was normally such a restrained (ie. frigid) woman that it was a surprise to see just how sexy she could look if she wanted to. For Jeffery, who hadn't seen much other than Starfleet security uniforms for nearly 3 weeks, it was a double whammy.  
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice void of emotion.  
"I'm, uh, good," he forced out, "Your arm?"  
"Fully healed, of course. The medical staff on this ship is quite excellent."  
"Well, yeah, of course it is. I mean, you run the medical staff, and you're excellent, so of course the medical staff must be great, cuz they work for you, and you're great and are you still mad at me?" Simon cringed. The last bit had just kind of slipped out.  
Wowryk glared at him.  
"You got me drunk. I broke my arm. OF COURSE I'M STILL MAD AT YOU!" She turned on her heel and walked away, taking a little more of Jeffery's heart with each step.  
"Don't worry," Yanick whispered, "she still likes you. Give her a few days, she'll soften up."  
Jeffery felt a bit better. He wandered over to the bar, eying the drinks Steven had set out. After his previous experience, he wasn't really too eager to drink anything syntheholic so he grabbed a fruit punch instead. He noticed Stafford skulking around the far end of the room and walked over to say hi.  
But Stafford was gone when he got there. Looking around, Jeffery saw that he had moved over by the windows. As he moved towards him, Jeffery saw Stafford glance in his direction, then start moving through the crowd towards the bar. Jeffery intercepted him.  
"Hi Chris," he said.  
"Oh, Simon. Um, hi," Stafford said nervously, "Great to have you back. I'm just going to go get a drink-"  
"How come yer avoiding me?" Jeffery demanded.  
"Avoiding you? That's crazy. I'm not avoiding you. Hey, look, T'Parief's trying to dance! This I gotta see."  
Jeffery grabbed Stafford by the shoulder.  
"Look, ye did what ye had to do. Ah sure has hell don't like it though! Ye stabbed me in the back!"  
"Look, Simon," Stafford sighed, "I've been through all this with H.R. already. Yeah. H.R. The big evil. And your girlfriend took a bite out of me, too. You want your turn? Go ahead, take your best shot! But remember that it was YOUR actions that got her hurt!"  
Jeffery's accusations died on his lips at this.  
"Yer right, it was my fault. Ah guess I'm just gonna have to learn to deal with that!" Jeffery walked over to the bar, downed a shot of whiskey then left, leaving Stafford standing in the middle of the lounge.

Captain's Log, Stardate 563010.23  
"With our Chief Engineer back, life is definitely getting back to normal. Lieutenant Sage has returned to the night shift, although if I'm any judge I think Jeffery better watch his back. Sage was really getting used to being in charge down there."  
"We've left the Senousians behind as we continue to explore this sector of space. We haven't received any response from Starfleet on our report concerning the Matrians as of yet. The Senousians have provided us with the general border of Matrian space, which is disturbingly close to Senous, as well as star charts of some of the surrounding systems. We're going to give the Matrians a wide berth as we continue to chart this sector.

The senior staff was in the latest in their seemly endless series of meetings.  
"I'm concerned over the readiness of our security force," T'Parief was saying, "Without holodecks our training options are very limited. Reaction time is lagging, co-ordination is poor."  
"I think we've established that another encounter with the Matrians is inevitable," Noonan interjected, "There is a very strong possibility that we might find ourselves under the influence of their spatial interphase devices."  
"If that's the case," said Stafford, "we need everybody, not just security, up to date on hand to hand combat, ground tactics and guerrilla warfare. All that fun stuff."  
"I agree," rumbled T'Parief, "we must be ready. But it is difficult to practice any of those skills without a holodeck."  
"Jeffery?" Stafford asked, "What is the holodeck situation?"  
"We've been installing components on and off since launch," Jeffery said, "it hasn't really been a priority. Lieutenant Sage was running some tests, but he was having problems aligning the emitter nodes. We might have the smaller personal holodecks running in a few days, but they can only hold 5 people, max. If ye want the whole crew involved, we can't do it, no matter how many holodecks we have running. Even the bigger holodecks will only hold a few dozen people. The more complex the simulation, the fewer people ye can fit in it. "  
"So that won't work," Stafford said, dejectedly.  
"What about surface war games?" T'Parief asked.  
"Huh?"  
"We have detected 3 uninhabited planets in this sector so far. I suggest we beam down, setup a war-game simulation on the planet and use that for training."  
Stafford thought for a moment then turned to Jall and Jeffery.  
"Can we do that? Logistically?"  
"Sure," Jall said, "We can replicate materials for bunkers, or barriers. Get some crewmen digging some trenches. Whatever we need."  
"All of our weapons have low output settings for training," Jeffery said, "We have replicator patterns for 'tag suits' too. They detect whether or not you've been hit and communicate with the computer to keep track of who's alive and 'dead'."  
"We used those at the Academy," T'Parief added, "they work very well."  
"Fine," Stafford decided, "We'll set course for the closest uninhabited planet. T'Parief and Jall, you're in charge."  
"What about me?" demanded Jeffery, "It was my idea too!"  
"I have something else in mind for you," Stafford said, "odds are good we're going to be fighting the Matrians ship to ship too. I want us at full readiness. That means the pulse phaser cannon is your new priority."  
Silverado had been fitted with a single pulse phaser cannon during the refit. Pulse cannons were first used on the U.S.S. Defiant and were quickly becoming very popular in Starfleet. They fired a series of high-powered phaser shots, machine gun style, overloading enemy shields and delivering massive amounts of damage. The problem was that they sucked up huge amounts of power. Silverado's new warp core could generate the power needed; the problem was that the power conduits in the saucer couldn't handle that kind of power transfer. The Silverado's pulse cannon was useless until somebody came up with a way around the power transfer problem.  
Jeffery nodded, "Ah had a thought about that right before you tossed me in the brig. Ah want to install a series of EPS storage cells. The cells will charge up off the power grid, then run the cannon."  
"Um, excuse me for being blond," Yanick piped in, "but HUH?"  
"If we run the cannon off the cells," Jeffery explained, "it'll cut out when the cells are depleted. That stops the cannon from overloading the power conduits, like it did before." Everybody remembered the last (and only) time the cannon had been used. Lieutenant Commander Sean Russell of Waystation had used it against K'Eleese, a crazy Klingon pirate. He'd also blown out main power to the entire saucer section.  
"The downside," T'Parief interjected, "is that once the cells are depleted, the cannon will be useless until they can recharge."  
"Which takes how long?" Noonan wanted to know.  
"About 5 minutes to charge. 8 to 10 shots from the cannon to be depleted."  
"10 shots isn't very much," grumbled Stafford, "but it's better than nothing."  
"There's one more problem," Jeffery said, "if we take a direct hit to the storage cells, it's going to blow a big hole in the hull."  
"Oh, great!" Stafford said sarcastically.  
"Are there essential systems in that sector?" Noonan asked.  
"Nay, just crew quarters-."  
Dr. Wowryk started to protest.  
"-but we can relocate crew to adjacent sections," Jeffery continued, ending Wowryk's objection.  
"Fine. It's settled then."

Enthusiasm among the crew for the war game grew steadily as the ship approached the planet labeled Kuwake 3 by the Senousians. Tag suits, full body suits covered with small sensors used to detect weapon hits, were replicated in bulk while Jall and T'Parief started planning the event.  
As the crew started drawing computer ballots to determine which team they would be on a problem quickly arose, leading Yanick and Wowryk to corner Stafford in his ready room.  
"Did you know about this?" Wowryk snapped, "This is sexist, male TRASH!"  
"Um, know about what?" Stafford asked weakly, trying to face his way out of the situation.  
"You know what!" wailed Yanick, " I can't believe you'd do this to us! It's SO unfair!"  
Stafford had a pretty good idea what this was about.  
"Look," he said, "for security measures-"  
"You're refusing to allow any females to participate in this exercise!" snapped Wowryk, "I know this kind of primitive, barbaric behavior is far better suited to the more primitive, barbaric sex, but we need to be able defend ourselves if we end up back in Dreamland!"  
"It wasn't my idea," Stafford snapped, "But it's one I fully agree with. Considering what happened last time, the women on this ship are the LAST people we want primed and ready to fight!"  
During the Silverado's previous encounter with the Matrian's SIDs, every female on the ship had become a warrior under the influence of Queen Wowryk, eager to enslave every male they could find and killing any who resisted. Jall had actually brought that point up, stating that the women should probably be kept out of the fighting if at all possible.  
"We're not crazy man-haters!" Yanick objected, "We didn't really want to enslave you all. It just kinda happened that way."  
"No, you were influenced by the devices," Stafford shot back, "either way, it's too big a risk. End of story."  
"I'm protesting to Starfleet," Wowryk said crisply, "this is gender discrimination!"  
"It's a tactical decision, so go right ahead! Dismissed."

As Silverado entered standard orbit of Kuwake 3 the computer randomly split the ship's male compliment into two teams: the Reds and the Blues. Lt. Cmdr T'Parief, along with Lt. Jall and Lt. Cmdr. Jeffery, led the Reds. The Blues were led by Stafford, along with Cmdr. Noonan and Lieutenant Stern.  
Splitting 400 some odd crewmen into two teams made for armies that were far too big for the war game, logistically speaking. To compensate, each army was split into divisions of 30, which would rotate through the different game scenarios. Only the 3 commanders of each army would remain for the entire exercise.  
Lt. Fifebee located 3 large valleys, formed by the convergence of two rivers. The valleys stretched away in three directions, with a large flood plain where they met. Engineering teams immediately beamed down and started setting up bunkers, obstacles and so forth. Thick forests filled the valleys, right up to the riverbeds. While the terrain closer to the rivers was fairly level, the deeper into the forests one went the rougher the terrain was and the higher up the valley walls one was forced to travel.

Captain's Log, Stardate 563015.5  
"We're ready to start our training exercise! We're starting off light; hand phasers and phaser rifles, all modified for training. Anytime somebody is hit, his tag suit will communicate the hit to our handy little base computer for analysis. If somebody is stunned, they must remain in that location until the suit notifies them that the stun effect has ended, otherwise they're removed from the game. If somebody is 'killed', they're beamed back to the ship."  
"We've put Silverado in geosynchronous orbit over the site and Fifebee has trained several visual scanners on the valleys and the surrounding area, allowing anybody on board to track the action. Our first match is going to be simple: destroy the other team!"

Yanick and Fifebee were on the bridge. Yanick had a bowl of popcorn ready while Fifebee routed the sensor feed to the main screen. At tactical was a pretty young security officer, Ensign Bith.  
The turbolift doors hissed open and Dr. Wowryk stepped onto the bridge. She settled into Stafford's command chair and made herself comfortable.  
"This ought to be entertaining," she said.  
"I can't believe they won't let us play," pouted Yanick.  
"It does make sense," said Fifebee, reasonably, "after what happened the last time."  
"I don't care! I wanna play!"  
"It wouldn't be difficult to duplicate their efforts, if you really want to participate."  
"Huh?"  
Wowryk smiled at Fifebee.  
"Have our own game?" she asked.  
"I have something different in mind."

Stafford, Noonan and Stern huddled around a map at Blue Base, a 6-sided structure with two side entrances and ladders leading up to platforms running along the walls. The platforms gave sharpshooters a clear view of the path leading up to Blue Base. There was also a central, elevated platform that served as the command center, affording Stafford and company a clear view of the surrounding area.  
Blue Base was situated in the North-West Valley, roughly a mile from Red Base, which was in the South Valley. The North-East Valley was unoccupied.  
"Ok," Stafford said, "Stern, I want you , Pomel and Susenk to stay back to defend the base. Noonan, you take half the squad and start moving through the east side of the valley. I'll take the rest and move down the west side. We'll rendezvous at-"  
"Um, what are we trying to do?" Stern interrupted.  
"Kill them all and take their base," Stafford said, impatiently.  
"Right, but why? I mean, the only reason we built these bases was for this exercise. If anybody actually DID build two bases in a valley, and one side DID manage to defeat the other, so what? It's a big empty valley filled with nothing but trees!"  
"And some cute little bunny-like alien creatures," Noonan pointed out. He had his protective eyewear and skin cream on and looked like an Albino in the bright sunlight.  
"Right. And Bugs Bunny's cute alien cousins."  
"Look," Stafford snapped, "just keep your eyes open and shoot anybody wearing a red suit!"  
"YEEE-HAWWW!  
"Like them?" Stern asked.  
The entire Red squad, led by Simon Jeffery, had just burst out of the trees and was rushing the Blue base.  
"Fire! Fire!" Stafford ordered frantically. The two officers up on the platforms opened fire on the advancing squad, dropping several of them before they rushed the entrances to the base.  
"FIRST BLOOD!" boomed the loud automated announcer as a Blue phaser blast took out one of the Red invaders.  
T'Parief, on the other hand, elected to charge right THROUGH the base, clawing through the thin wall in an impressive display of strength. Stern gave a single, high-pitched shriek before T'Parief swatted him across the chest, claws retracted. The tag suit recognized the nature of the contact, beaming Stern back to the ship.  
"You're dead," T'Parief said with a smirk. He promptly caught his foot in the remains of the wall, falling flat on his face. A quick phaser shot from one of the Blue squad 'killed' him.

In Unbalanced Equations, Steven had setup his holoprojector so those on board could watch the action. He'd also tapped into the ship's intercom to give commentary.  
"And Stafford ducks a shot from Jeffery," he announced, "Close shave! And the Captain retaliates with a shot of his own! Oh, a miss. Wait, what's this? It's T'Parief! He's clawing right THROUGH the wall! Wow folks, talk about aggression! And Stern is out for the count!"  
The room burst out laughing as the massive reptilian officer tripped and crashed to the ground.

Wowryk was giggling in the command chair.  
"Talk about co-ordination!" she gasped, "This is the guy in charge of security?"  
"He really is much better with a phaser!" Yanick grumbled.

"And Noonan takes out Jeffery with a shot from behind! That was cold! And wow, look at him move!" Noonan moved so quickly the camera could barely track him as he took out two more Reds.  
"The Red team's blatant attack certainly caught the Blues off-guard," announced Mary, Steven's head waitress, "But Blue holds the home advantage, as the battle is taking place in their base. Steve?"  
"Well Mary, I think we can all see that the Reds are suffering heavy casualties. They've lost 2 of their 3 commanders, leaving Lt. Jall in charge. I think we'd all agree that Jall is the LAST person who should be running any army!"

"RETREAT!" hollered Jall as he tried desperately to escape into the woods. The 4 surviving Reds followed him, dashing between the trees towards the river.  
Stafford and Noonan looked around. Their base was a shambles. Aside from the huge hole in one wall, 3 of the platforms had been knocked down. The intact walls showed dents and scratches and Stafford's map had been stomped into the ground. 6 Blue troops remained.  
"Let's get them!" Stafford yelled. He led his men after the retreating Reds.

Commander Noonan was having a great time! The sun was starting to get to him, but once he was in the deep forest it was less of a problem. The Blues had caught up with the Reds who had promptly scattered, leading to a search and destroy operation. Noonan was stalking one of the last remaining Reds.  
He had to admit, he had really missed the thrill of the hunt. Chasing after an unsuspecting victim, effortlessly staying out of sight, moving so quickly that he appeared to vanish from one place and reappear someplace else. The daytime interfered with his powers to an extent, but the deeper into the forest he went the more of his strength returned to him.

Crewman Shwaluk ran through the forest. Separated from the other Reds, he was dashing straight back to Red base.  
"Going somewhere?"  
He spun around. Nobody.  
"You can run, but you can't hide!"  
He spun again. Looked left. Looked right. Nobody.  
He took a step forward then jumped in surprise as Cmdr. Noonan suddenly appeared right in front of him.  
"AHHHHH!"  
"Pleasant dreams!"  
There was a phaser flash then Shwaluk found himself standing on the transporter pad.  
"Happy honourable death!" said Pysternzyks from behind the transporter console, a big grin on his face, "I can hardly wait for my turn!"  
Shwaluk flicked a rude gesture at the Andorian on his way out.

"BLUE TEAM WINS!" boomed the auto-announcer over every comm channel on and off Silverado. There were cheers from the Blue army and groans of disgust from the Red army. Lieutenant Sage and an engineering team beamed down to prepare the arena for the next match.

Captain's Log: Supplemental.  
"Blue 1, Red 0! Our next match is going to be 'Capture the Flag!' Each team has a flag. Whichever team can capture the enemy flag and return it to their own base wins. A team must still have possession of their own flag as well before they can make a successful capture."  
"Because of the nature of this exercise we're turning 'deaths' off, so to speak. Anybody 'killed' will be beamed to a random location on their side of the valley."  
"We've also expanded our arsenal to include stun grenades and mock-leths. Mock-leths are much like bat-leths, only with electrodes designed to work with the tag suits instead of a sharp blade. Both have been modified for the war game."

Jall, T'Parief and Jeffery huddled in the Red base.  
"Ok," Jall said, "I think we can agree that a direct assault isn't the best idea," he gave Jeffery a dark look.  
"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Jeffery muttered.  
"Right," rumbled T'Parief, baring his teeth "I will take charge of strategy now. Any objections?"  
Jall and Jeffery shook their heads.  
"Good. Now, we must leave a sizable force behind to guard our flag. Jeffery, you and Pysternzyks will keep 12 troops around the base. Scatter some of them into the woods nearby. If any Blues make it to the base, they'll find themselves surrounded. Jall and I will lead a strike against the Blue base."  
"I wanna attack the Blues," objected Jeffery.  
"And I wanna stay here, where it's safe!" whined Jall.  
"Find. You're switched," T'Parief turned to Jall, "but just so you know, it's the ones guarding the base who are going to be sitting on the bulls-eye."  
"Aw, f**kberries," moaned Jall.

"And it looks like T'Parief and Jeffery are leading their troops to battle," announced Steve over the Silverado intercom. Security officers carefully analyzed the battle tactics, while everybody else munched popcorn and listened to the commentary.  
"And moving over to the Blue side, it looks like Stafford and Stern have set up an impressive defense! The Reds are going to have a nasty surprise in store!"

Noonan, Frat and Frek Naketh crept through the forest, carefully avoiding the Red army. Every other Blue troop had been held back for base defense.  
Noonan continued to move so smoothly through the trees the two Nicondii could almost swear that he wasn't touching a single branch. The two small engineers were able to walk under the thickest layer of branches but had to move carefully.

Stafford looked through a pair of binoculars at the valley. He could just see the top of the Red base in the distance. He was so intent on the base that he didn't see the 16 Red troops come charging down the path until Jeffery's phaser blast triggered his tag suit, beaming him back to the ship.

"Got him!" said Jeffery with satisfaction as the auto-announcer shouted "FIRST BLOOD!"  
"Now is NOT the time to gloat!" snarled T'Parief, "ATTACK!"  
Phaser blasts filled the air again, but this time the Blues were prepared. Sharpshooters on the base picked off 4 Red troops before T'Parief's phaser found them. Stern tossed a stun grenade into the approaching Reds, stunning most of them, including T'Parief.  
Stafford came running out of the trees seconds later, just as Stern was 'dispatching' the stunned Reds.

"The first Red grab for the Blue flag was a dismal failure," said Steve, "Mary, what do you think?"  
"I think the Reds underestimated the Blue defenses. We still haven't seen Noonan, Frat or Frek in some time, we can only hope they have something clever planned. And it looks now like there is some disagreement between the Blue commanders…"

"NO you IDIOT!" Stafford snapped, "we DON'T kill them!" He waved his arms at the dozen 'stunned' Reds sitting on the ground."  
"Well why not?" Stern objected, "You said we needed to 'kill' all of them!"  
"Right, that was before! Now, if we 'kill' them, they're going to go right back into action! We need to hold them hostage so they can't get back in the game!"  
Stern and Stafford continued to argue back and forth, not noticing T'Parief gesturing one of his men to move closer to the Blue base.  
"Stun cycle complete," announced the tag suits. Immediately the Reds jumped into action, taking out Stern, Stafford and several of the Blue guards. The Red closest to the base darted in, grabbed the flag and darted out.

"And the Blue flag has been taken from the Blue base! The chase is on! Now it's up to the Blues to stop the Red flag carrier before he can return to his base. But wait, it looks like the Blue's have their own plan going into play!"

Noonan, Frat and Frek eased up to the Red base, having slipped past the guards.  
"Frek and I will create a diversion," whispered Noonan, "Frat, you will sneak in and get the flag."  
Noonan and Frek waited until Frat was in position, then Noonan jumped out and hurtled stun grenades in 3 different directions. The Reds immediately returned fire. Frek snuck up behind one of the Reds with a mock-leth, smacking the much larger ensign across the back with the weapon. He promptly dematerialized.

Frat slipped into the Red base easily enough, snagged the flag then bolted for the bush. Unfortunately, the bright red flag made him an easy target and he had to avoid multiple phaser blasts before he was able to rejoin Noonan and Frek. The three immediately started running towards the Blue base.

Noonan, Frat and Frek returned to Blue base, battered and gasping for breath (except for Noonan), Red flag held proudly in hand.  
"We've got it!" announced Frat.  
"Great," snapped Stafford, "why don't you use it to sweep the floor, cuz that's all it's frikin' good for now!"  
"Hey, where'd our flag go?" wondered Frek.

At Red base, T'Parief and Ensign Pye had just arrived, Blue flag held proudly in hand.  
"We've got it!" announced T'Parief.  
"Great," snapped Jall, "why don't you go cram it up your torpedo tube, cuz that's all it's f**king good for now!"  
"Hey, where'd our flag go?" wondered Pye.

Unbalanced Equations burst into laughter as the watching crewmen listened to the broadcast from the surface.  
"Well, they're in a nasty fix now, aren't they Mary?" said Steven.  
"Oh yeah," Mary giggled, "They've each managed to get their hands on the other team's flag, but without their own flag they can't make a successful capture!"  
"Each team now has to hold on to their enemies' flags while attempting to get their own back!"  
"I think Blue will win this one," Mary said, "They've got their defensive strategy figured out, and we're starting to see some strong offense from them as well."  
"Don't forget that Red started off very strong," Steven pointed out, "I think they still have some surprises for the Blues, both in offense and defense. And don't forget that Lieutenant Jall is more offensive than anybody else on this ship!"  
Mary dropped her 'announcer voice' to groan. "Geez Steve, that was just BAD."  
"I'm running out of material!" Steven objected.  
"SHHH! It's still on!"

Jeffery paced back and forth while T'Parief and Jall debated strategy. Pysternzyks had been sent out into the forest behind the base to hide the enemy flag. Pysternzyks had protested loudly, saying that hiding was for cowards, but after T'Parief informed him that he was to guard the flag, surrendering his life if necessary, he quickly changed his tune.  
"We need to get our flag back!" Jall said for the 5th time.  
"Aye, thank ye, Master of the Obvious," Jeffery snapped.  
"I don't hear you giving any good ideas!" Jall snapped back.  
"Silence!" roared T'Parief, "Either contribute, or shut up!"  
Jall grunted and started scanning the valley with a set of binoculars.  
"It looks like there's Blue activity in the North-East Valley," he said after a moment.  
"What would they be doing there?" wondered T'Parief.  
"Hiding our flag, maybe?"  
"I doubt it. It's too visible. We can see them."  
"Well," Jall corrected, "I can't actually see THEM. But I do see the trees moving, like something's knocking them out of the way."  
"Keep an eye on it," T'Parief decided. He turned to Jeffery, "I want 2 teams of 3 to scour the valley, one on each side of the river. See if you can see what Blue is up to and where they hid our flag."

Stafford was scanning the valley with his binoculars while Stern and Noonan debated strategy.  
"I'm not seeing any Red activity so far," he reported, "although there are a few trees getting knocked around in the North-East valley. I can't see more because of the terrain."  
"Keep an eye on it," Noonan advised, "but we must come to a decision: do we wait for the Reds to come to us, or do we take the battle to them?"  
"Let's send everybody," Stern said, "hit them with all we've got! Leave one person hiding in the bush with the Red flag."  
"I don't like it,' Stafford said, "it leaves us too vulnerable."  
"Well, we could send out two scouting parties then," Noonan suggested, "say, two teams of three? They could scout for Red activity and try to locate our flag."  
"Sounds good," replied Stafford.

Watching the action in Unbalanced Equations, Ms. Lydia Thompson of Human Resources shook her head in disgust as she watched the 4 'scouting parties' draw closer and closer to each other. She had been intrigued and impressed at first when the senior staff had initiated the training exercise, showing excellent use of limited resources as well as taking advantage of an opportunity to improve morale. She just hadn't realized that when it came to ground combat tactics most Starfleet officers were out of practice at best, thanks to the tendency for most battles to be fought in space.  
"And the Blues and the Reds seem to be using identical tactics," announced Steven, eliciting a round of groans and a few calls of 'D'UH!"  
"If this keeps up, we could be in for a long match, ladies, gentlemen and gender-neutral beings," said Mary.  
"But not to worry," added Steven, "we'll be here to talk you through the action, and the bar and buffet will remain open!"

The Red and Blue scouting parties met at the center of the 3-valley confluence. There was a brief flurry of exchanged weapons fire and stun grenades. When it was over, all 12 troops had been 'killed' and beamed back to their respective valleys.

"Well, that did nothing," muttered Jall after hearing the report from one of the scouts.  
"Fine," said Jeffery, "Then we rush out right now as quickly as possible and surprise them!"  
"Well, at this point I'm out of ideas," admitted T'Parief, "so CHARGE!"  
The Red team ran towards the Blue Base, leaving only Pysterzyks behind to guard the flag.

"Great. Our scouting parties were killed and we didn't learn a thing!" complained Stafford, "To hell with strategy! Send everybody except our flag guard to attack the Red base!"  
The Blue team ran towards the Red Base, leaving only a single guard hiding in the forest with the Red flag.

The two armies met at the valley confluence.  
"ATTACK!" shouted Stafford as he saw the first of the Red troops running towards him.  
"CHARGE!" shouted T'Parief. He un-slung his phaser rifle and fired a shot directly at Stafford, who was barely able to shimmy out of the way. Stafford fired back at T'Parief, missing by a long shot but hitting one of the Red troops emerging from the trees.  
Frat and Frek Naketh fired phaser shots at the Red troops from their hiding places behind some small bushes. The tiny engineers presented such small targets that Ensign Burke drained his phaser rifle trying to hit them. Frustrated, he tossed a stun grenade in their direction, taking both out of the game.  
Noonan skirted around the edge of the trees, dispatching three Red troops before they could respond. He was about to dispatch a 3rd when a shot from T'Parief took him by surprise.  
Crewman Purch had taken a slightly different route. The amphibious crewman had dived into the river, staying just below the surface except for his froglike eyes. He popped up, 'killed' a Blue troop then dived below the water, narrowing escaping a barrage of phaser shots. Swimming a short distance away he popped up again, shooting Lieutenant Stern in the back. This time a stun grenade came flying in his direction before he could make his escape.  
Stafford, the only Blue commander left, assessed the situation. Frat and Frek had taken out Jall while Jeffery had had a close encounter with a stun grenade, leaving T'Parief in charge. Stafford was positive that T'Parief was a better tactician that he was, but Blue had a slight advantage in numbers. Ducking low, he backed towards the trees, calling for his men to follow him. They 'advanced to the rear' (retreated), firing back at the Reds.  
The Reds followed them, realizing only at the last minute that the trees would afford the Blues cover while the Reds were still in the open. T'Parief quickly hollered at his troops to drop to the ground, taking them out of the Blue line of fire.  
"RED FLAG CAPTURED," boomed the auto-announcer.  
Stafford looked at his team in confusion.  
"Who managed to get the flag?"  
"I dunno, maybe somebody got past the Reds,"  
"And back again? I doubt it."  
"BLUE FLAG CAPTURED," boomed the auto-announcer.  
"What the hell is going on?" Stafford demanded. He shouted out towards T'Parief.  
"Hey! T'Parief! What's going on?"  
"I do not know!" the tactical officer shouted back.

Up on the ship everybody was in a state on confusion.  
"And it looks like both flags have been captured," Steven announced, puzzled, "but neither the Red team or the Blue team has scored. I don't understand how this could have happened!"  
"Indeed," added Mary, "The only way this could happen would be if there was a third team…"

Stafford and T'Parief had declared at temporary cease-fire and met just outside the woods. The Blue and Red troops hunkered behind whatever cover was available, keeping their weapons trained on the each other. Stafford and T'Parief were arguing over what was going on.  
"I think it's a malfunction in the computer," Stafford said, "Maybe 'Mom' thought this was too dangerous and wanted to shut things down!"  
"The base computers running the game are small portable units," stated T'Parief, "the Silverado's main computer doesn't have that level of control over them,"  
"You don't know that woman…if she wants to do something, she'll do it!"  
"I remind you that we're talking about a computer, not in fact your mother. Fortunately."  
"Lieutenant," Stafford said stiffly, "you better not be insulting my mother!"  
"I really think we should return to the problem at-"  
"BONZAII!"  
Stafford and T'Parief turned towards the source of the shout as green suited troops burst out of the trees nears the North-East Valley, yelling at the top of their lungs and firing their weapons at the Red and Blue troops.

"Holy s**t!" shouted Steven as he watched the carnage on screen, "We've got some new players on the field, and they're swatting both the Reds and the Blues like flies!"  
The crew in Unbalanced Equations stared at the projection screen, popcorn and snack foods forgotten.  
"Who are these people?"

Stafford ran through the woods, pursued by one of the Green intruders. T'Parief and most of the Reds and Blues had either been taken out by the Greens or had taken each other out in a frenzy of weapons fire (in which T'Parief had been caught. Stafford had managed to duck in time).  
He twisted past a thick bunch of trees then jumped over a fallen log, stumbling as he landed. His shoulder hit a tree, sending him sprawling to the ground as a cold blast of pain knifed through his arm. He was pretty sure something was broken.  
He struggled to get up as his attacker stepped out of the shadows.  
"That shoulder looks bad," said Dr. Noel Wowryk, dirt smeared over her green tag suit, "we'd better get you to Sickbay."

Captain's Log, Supplemental  
"Well, it looks like some people just weren't content to sit back, follow orders and watch the fun. The women on the ship, following Dr. Wowryk, Lieutenant Fifebee and Ensign Yanick, have formed their own team, the Greens. They also completely kicked our asses, mostly because they caught us completely by surprise."  
"Unfortunately, my previous orders stated that females on the ship could not join the Red or Blue teams. They didn't say anything about forming a third team, which means that nobody has disobeyed my orders, which means I can't punish anybody! Dammit! Furthermore, Ms. Thompson has informed me that if I continue to prevent the females on this ship from participating I'll be violating Starfleet's anti-discrimination policy, regardless of tactical considerations. Against my better judgment, we're continuing with the war game. Mostly because I want to see the look on Dr. Wowryk's face when we completely defeat and humiliate her."  
"Computer, transfer that last sentence to my personal log."

"I think you'll be in for a surprise, Captain," Dr. Wowryk said coolly as she ran a tricorder over Stafford's shoulder.  
"Ohh, I don't think so," Stafford said, "We beat you once before. We'll beat you again."  
"We were in Dreamland last time," Wowryk said, "and those were completely different circumstances. We're not brainwashed lunatics anymore!"  
"Well, you're half right, OH GOD!" Stafford screamed in pain as Wowryk popped his shoulder into place.  
"Dislocated shoulder," she said. Stafford gasped in pain for several seconds before he was able to speak again.  
"You could have warned me! Or given me painkillers! Or SOMETHING!"  
"You would have just tensed up, which would have made it hurt even more. Besides, God frowns on drug use."  
"I think you're confusing pharmaceuticals with street drugs."  
"I hardly think YOU are one to lecture me about God!"  
"Just fix my shoulder!"  
Wowryk ran a dermal regenerator over Stafford's shoulder, repairing the damage.  
"I suggest you rest for the next 48 hours," she ordered.  
"Forget it. We've got a match tomorrow morning. I'm in it. End of story."  
"I figured you'd say that," Wowryk said with disdain, "you can't help it, it's the testosterone talking."  
"Hey, I like having testosterone."  
"Typical male. So in love with your parts you can't contemplate how much better life would be without them!"  
"What? You think we should all get fixed?"  
"Neutering pets has shown to have a positive impact on their behavior."  
"OK," Stafford said, "now you're just pulling my leg! Teasing me! Trying to get a rise out of me!" Stafford gave her a slightly scared look, "Right?"  
Wowryk smiled, "Yes I am, and it sure took you long enough to notice."  
"See you on the field tomorrow,"  
"You better believe it."

The next morning the Blue, Red and Green teams beamed down to the planet. Stafford and T'Parief had inspected the Green base to ensure it matched the Red and Blue bases and didn't provide any unfair advantages. Finding everything in order, they returned to their respective bases.  
Three teams made many of the planned matches more difficult. Three-way capture the flag was too much like three-way sex: two teams were likely to get heavily involved while the third sat back and watched. Obviously that was to be avoided so a different scenario had been concocted.  
For the third (and final) match, T'Parief, Stafford and Wowryk agreed on a sort of king-of-the-hill type match. The teams would fight for control of the three bases. For each base they controlled they would be awarded one point per minute. If Red held their base plus the Blue base for ten minutes, they'd get twenty points. At the end of 5 hours whichever team had the most points would win. Squads would rotate from Silverado to the planet, allowing all crewmembers to participate.  
All three commanders had been adamant that there be no partnerships between any of the teams, and that no team would attempt to favor one of the others.  
"Out numbering them two to one is not honorable," T'Parief had said.  
"Plus," Stafford had added, "if were to team up and beat them they'd be crying about how they were completely outgunned!"  
Wowryk and Yanick had just rolled their eyes.

In Unbalanced Equations, Steve was setup for another day. The buffet was stocked and his 3 other waiters were running around filling drink orders. Steve and Mary had resumed their positions as commentators at the back of the lounge.  
The crowd in Unbalanced Equations had grown to half again it's previous size. Suddenly all the women on the ship were interested in the events unfolding on the planet.

Wowryk, Yanick and Fifebee stood on the command platform at Green Base, surrounded by their troops. A rough map of the valley in front of them.  
"We're going to target Blue Base first," said Fifebee, "We will send 3/4s of our force to attack while the remainder stays here to guard the base. You will always remain in groups of two, nobody should ever be alone. Also, Nurse Kerry and Yeoman Schoonbaert will stay here," she indicated a section of forest near Green Base, "to provide a reserve in case our base is in danger of being overrun. Any questions?"  
"Like, do we all have to wear this green?" asked a blond ensign, "It, like, so totally clashes with my hair!"  
"This is a battle," snapped Dr. Wowryk, "not a fashion show!"  
"Like, lighten up!"  
"Our attack strategy is simple," interrupted Trish Yanick, "Pincer maneuver. Two squads hit Blue Base from two directions. Then the third group comes in to catch them by…oh! Look! Bunnies! They're so CUTE!"  
"Alien bunnies aside, since when did you know anything about strategy?" asked Lieutenant Crixar.  
"Well, I don't," admitted Yanick, "it was Fifebee's idea. But I still think it's a good one."  
"I say we vote on it," piped up another voice.  
"Oh! Oh! We need a Strategy Committee to decide this stuff!"  
"I wanna be on the Refreshments Committee!"  
"You've got to be kidding me," groaned Fifebee

Jeffery and Pye had snuck through the bushes right up to the outer wall of Green Base. Hearing the argument inside, Pye raised his hand and pantomimed chatter. Stifling a giggle, Jeffery reached into his pocket and pulled out a very special grenade.  
Basically a stun grenade, Jeffery had modified it using some parts from a comm badge. He chucked it over the wall before rushing back into the bush.

Everyone in Green Base turned to stare as a brightly coloured object landed on the ground in the middle of the base. It beeped softly, then a recording of 'I'm a Little Teapot' started to play.  
"What is that thing?" asked Yanick.  
"And why is it making that racket!"  
"I don't know," said Dr. Wowryk, "it looks like a stun grenade, but stun grenades aren't bright pink and they don't play music."  
"Is it a music box?" asked Crixar.  
"Look," Fifebee said, "We should get rid of it. Whatever it is, it might be dang-"  
BOOM!

"I can't believe they fell for that," muttered Pye as he and Jeffery climbed onto the Green base command platform, ignoring the angry glares of the 'stunned' Green troops. Jeffery tapped a red button on the base computer. On a small display screen the icon representing Green Base changed from green to red.  
"RED TEAM LEADS!"  
"Now we have to hold onto it," Jeffery said.  
"And how do we do that? The stun is going to wear off soon. Should we just 'kill' them?"  
"Nay, they'll materialize somewhere in the valley and be on us in no time."  
"Stun them again?"  
"The tag suits are set to recognize multiple stun blasts and will record them as a 'kill' after 3 consecutive hits. But aye, I think that's the best bet." He turned to the Green troops and found himself facing Dr. Wowryk.  
"Um, hi Noel," he said, "I'm sorry, but I have to stun you again now."  
"You'd shoot me, Simon?" Wowryk asked, "What would God say about that?"  
"Um, um," Jeffery stuttered, his phaser rifle wavering.  
"It's just a game!" snapped Pye, "shoot her and lets go!"  
"I know, but-" Wowryk was looking right at Jeffery, her big blue eyes damp with tears, her long auburn hair framing her sad but delicate face.  
"She's so beautiful!" wailed Jeffery, "I can't do it!"  
"Stun cycle ended," announced the Green tag suits. The Greens immediately fired, hitting Jeffery and Pye with multiple shots, 'killing' both. Fifebee rushed to the base computer and hit a green button, returning the base to Green control.  
"You can't," Wowryk muttered to herself, "but I can!"

"And the Red team pulls into the lead with 60 points! Blue is holding steady with 45 points while Green trails with 30!" The sensor feed on the holoprojector screen now had an insert across the bottom, displaying team scores and the status of the three bases. A betting pool had formed, under the supervision of Crewman Shwaluk. Despite a rough start, odds still favored a Green victory.

Jeffery's disguised stun grenade may have won the Red team the lead, but it had also re-awakened the Green team to the fact that they really didn't have time for a Strategy Committee. They had decided to continue to target Blue, as the Reds would be expecting retaliation. Fifebee was left in command of base defense while Wowryk, Nurse Kerry and Trish took command of the three attack squads.

The Blues didn't know what hit them.  
Stafford and Stern directed base defense as the two Green attack groups assaulted the base. They'd sent an attack force to the Red base, under the command of Noonan, which left them vulnerable to an attack. Noonan's attack force had been obliterated by Red defenses, but the random transports following their 'deaths' had scattered them across the valley, too far from Blue Base to help.  
The Blues were on the verge of pushing the Greens back when the third Green attack team came surging out of the trees. Stafford and his defenders were wiped out in minutes. Kerry ran up to the Blue computer and tapped the green button, taking control of Blue Base.

The Green's didn't have long to savor their victory. An unexpected assault against Blue Base by the Reds caught them off guard. Wowryk and Trish's assault teams, already weakened, had fallen back to the base and were defending their captured territory against the Reds. After a pitched battle, they barely managed to repel them. Kerry's team had returned to bolster the defenses at Green Base, somehow passing by the Red attack force without being noticed. Wowryk immediately called for Kerry to assault the Red base while the Reds were preoccupied.  
Stafford and his Blue troops, having been dispersed across the valley by their 'deaths', were regrouping by the river.  
Noonan and Stafford debated their next move.  
"There's still fighting at our base," Stafford said, "I say we pop up, surprise them and take our base back!"  
"Problem," said Noonan, "we would be fighting off two armies."  
"You're right. Same thing if we attack the Red base."  
"Green Base is our best bet,"  
"Right."

"And we've got a pitched match now, folks!" announced Steven excitedly, "Green is holding the Blue base, Blue has taken control of Green base and Red remains firmly fixed in Red Base. The score is Blue 35, Green 63 and Red 48. The Blues really need to get their act together if they want to catch up!"

Over the course of the next few hours, control of the bases bounced from team to team. Green continued to show a strong performance; holding, losing then retaking Blue and Red Bases repeated while Red nipped at their heels. Eventually though, the team commanders started realizing it was time to break the pattern and try something different.

"Enough of this," grumbled T'Parief, "here's what we're doing: We need to get these bletchexths out of the way. I want 5 teams. Jall, your team will stay here. I will take a team to attack Green Base. Jeffery, since you don't have the gonads to shoot your woman, you will attack Blue Base. Dar'ugal will take the fourth team to Green Base while Day takes the fifth team to Blue Base."  
"Right, so now we have more teams. So what?" Jall asked, "Sounds like we're just complicating things!"  
"That's why I'm the tactical officer and you are the ship's flunky!" snapped T'Parief, "We're going to tag team!"  
Jeffery scratched his head.  
"Huh?"  
"Each base has two teams attacking it," T'Parief explained, "One team will attack and be 'killed', taking out some of the defenders in the process. Once they're done, the second team will attack, take out some of the defenders and be destroyed. While the second team is attacking, the first team will regroup then attack again. Eventually, we will wear down their defenses enough to take their base."  
"But they'll be regrouping too!" Jeffery pointed out.  
"We will have to be faster. Let's go!"

Dr. Wowryk stood on the command platform of Blue Base, watching the newest Red attack team approaching. It was pathetic! The battle lasted all of 10 minutes; with Wowryk losing only 4 troops while the Red team was obliterated.  
Seconds later another Red team attacked. After a 15 minutes fight, Wowryk was down 6 more troops.  
And another Red team attacked….

"And the Red team's new strategy seems to have worked perfectly for Blue Base," stated Mary. Within an hour, the Greens had been defeated and Blue Base was under Red control.  
"The Greens are taking a beating," Steven agreed, "Blue has taken control of Green Base while Red has ousted them from Blue Base." It looks like Green is trying to regroup, but they're having problems getting through the Red forces attacking Green Base. The Blues are going to have their hands full…"

'Problems' was putting it lightly. Every time a Green troop materialized in their valley, they barely had time to hunt for other Green troops before being 'killed' or stunned by the warring Blue and Red teams. Blue was putting up a hard fight for Green base, but since their 'causalities' were materializing back in the Blue valley, the reinforcements had to try to fight their way past the Reds, usually failing miserably. Time was running short, with only an hour left to go! The current score was Reds: 254, Green 317 and Blues 201.

"And Red has established a hold on all three bases!" announced Steven, "They can't hold for long though! Blue is already attacking Blue Base, trying to knock the Reds out while Green is regrouping for a counter-attack. Mary?"  
"At this point," Mary said, "Blue is out of the picture. They would have to control at least two bases for an hour just to catch up to where Green is now. I think we'll be seeing a heated battle between the Reds and the Greens."

Stern ducked behind a tree, avoiding a phaser shot from Ensign Day, who was perched atop Blue Base and firing at the Blue attackers. A shot from Crewman Sutherland sent Day into a flurry of transporter sparkles. Without any sharpshooters, Blue Base fell quickly to the Blue assault.  
Stafford slammed his hand down on the Blue button, returning Blue Base to Blue control.  
"HAH!" he hollered, "Suck it, Red!"  
"I think the time for taunts has passed," Noonan said calmly.  
"What? Why?"  
We're 116 points behind. We cannot possibly win."  
"Oh, f**k!"

Stafford, determined not to show any favoritism to either the Reds or the Greens, sent attack parties to assault the flanks of each force. The Greens continued to assault the Red force holding Green Base, but the combination of the Red and Blue attack teams made it hard for them to regroup.  
Red wasn't happy with Blue either. During one brief period where Red Base was lightly defended, Stafford had led an attack and taken the base before T'Parief returned in a rage to re-take it.

The score was Red 305, Green 317 and Blue 212 with 40 minutes remaining.

Dr. Wowryk had finally gathered most of the Green team in a small clearing near the river.  
"We're going in hard," she said, "ignore Blue, stun Red. If they're stunned, they can't regroup. If you're 'killed', jump right back into the party! We need to take and hold our base if we're going to beat these pigs!"  
"We're going to show them that Green is the most powerful team!" yelled Yanick.  
"Oh, such motivation," cracked Kerry, her voice thick with sarcasm, "I feel such undying loyalty to the wonderful Green team!"  
"Just shut up and shoot!"

The Greens swarmed their own base, splitting into two columns and flanking the Red assault team from the cover of the woods. Finding themselves under attack from both sides, the Reds quickly became aware that they were between a rock and a hard place. By the time they reached Green Base, Red resistance was crumbling.  
T'Parief's plan of sending wave after wave of Red troops had worked great. The problem was that now Green was playing the same game with the home field advantage of materializing much closer than the Reds, who had to run from their valley to the Green valley to rejoin the fight. Green managed to crush the Red occupational forces by tossing 3 stun grenades over the walls of Green base. Trish Yanick ran into the base, up the command platform and slammed her hand down on the green button.  
"Yeah!" she squealed as the icon representing Green Base change to green, "Go us!"

Red 345, Green 317 and Blue 232 with 20 minutes remaining.

"We can still win," Fifebee declared, "We must hold our base and the Blue base for 14 minutes. We have 20 minutes. Mathematically, it is possible."  
"Right, we're going to take the Blue base in 6 minutes!" snapped Nurse Kerry as she phasered a Red player who had been sneaking around.  
"If we're gonna do something, we better do it now!" said Yanick.  
"If we take the Red base, we only have to hold it for 7 minutes to beat the Red team," Dr. Wowryk pointed out.  
Fifebee looked at her in shock.  
"You're right! I can't believe I missed that! Doctor, have you studied this kind of strategy before?"  
"No," Wowryk said, "at least, I don't think I did."  
"We'll repeat our earlier strategy," decided Fifebee, "Three groups, sending in two first than one later. But this time the third group will circle around and attack from behind."

Red base was a scene of chaos.  
T'Parief, Jeffery and Jall were exhausted, having been in 'combat' for nearly 5 hours straight. A Blue attack team, led by Stafford had knocked out half of his squad, leaving them to watch helplessly at the firefight until their stun cycles ended. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of snapping branches and rustling leaves a full minute before the first Green troops burst out of the woods, charging the base, Ensign Yanick in the lead.  
"Hi honey!" she called to T'Parief, blowing him a big kiss and flashing a smile. T'Parief stopped to wave back, not even noticing Nurse Kerry until she nailed him with her phaser rifle.  
"Aw, fwark!" he cursed.  
With the Red forces already weakened by the Blue attack, Red Base fell before the third Green team had even arrived.

"They've got our base and their own," T'Parief was giving orders to the Red squad after they had regrouped, "If they hold it for 4 more minutes, they'll tie with us. There's only 10 minutes left. We need a base to stay in the lead. They'll be fortifying their positions, trying to prevent us from getting our base back.  
"So which do we go for?" asked Jeffery, "Theirs, or ours?"  
"Neither," piped in Jall, understanding, "we go for Blue base. Blur just finished an assault against us. They've been alternating for the past half out. They'll attack Green next. As soon as they leave, we take their base."  
"Let's move," rumbled T'Parief.  
They skirted through the trees. Before they even reached the Blue valley, they could see Noonan leading more than half the Blue team towards Green Base.  
"We're going to hit them from all directions," murmured T'Parief, "fire stun grenades into the base. Don't worry about conserving; we're almost finished anyway. Hit them hard and fast.  
Hard and fast was right. The Reds stormed Blue Base, catching Stafford and Stern with a single grenade. The rest of the Blue defenders last all of 2 minutes before Red took control of the base.

"RED TEAM IS THE WINNER!" cried the auto-announcer as the clock hit zero.

The score was Red 357, Green 351 and Blue 246.

"Oh yeah! Oh yeah! We rule! We rule!" Jall chanted as the senior staff gathered in the conference lounge for the post-exercise briefing.  
Everybody had showered and eaten and engineering teams were hard at work dismantling the bases. Members of the science staff would be combing the valleys, ensuring that no Federation technology was left behind.  
"All right, first off," Stafford was saying, "congratulations to the Red team for winning the last round."  
"Who-hoo!" Jall held his hand out to T'Parief, who stared at him blankly.  
"Mr. T'Parief, would you please high-five him so we can continue?" Noonan said blandly.  
T'Parief slammed his thick hand against Jall's, electing a cry of pain.  
` "Thank you," Stafford said with a grin, as Jall clutched his bruised hand, "So, opinions. Did this exercise improve our combat skills?"  
"Undoubtedly," rumbled T'Parief, "I observed marked improvement in response time, coordination and marksmanship skills on all three teams. It will take some time to further analyze the footage recorded by the sensors, but I think the results will be very positive."  
"On that topic," Fifebee joined in, "The Associated Worlds Network has expressed interest in purchasing broadcast rights for that footage."  
"Really?" Stafford asked surprised, "How did they find out about it so soon?"  
"I made the acquaintance of a charming young reporter while I was on Waystation," said Noonan, "I thought she might be interested. Of course, they will have to deal with Starfleet's Public Relations department to get the footage, but most likely they will get it."  
"Cool. We could use some good publicity." Stafford said, nodding his approval.  
"Exactly," Noonan agreed.  
"I'm not sure good publicity is what we'd get," muttered Jall.  
"Oh shut up."  
"How are we resource-wise, Jeffery?" Stafford asked.  
"We're fine," Jeffery replied, "We used a fair bit of replicator energy, but it's not like we're running low or anything. It was certainly less of an energy drain than the holodecks would have been."  
"So, the Reds win, we all learned something and we're ready to move on," said Jall happily, "sounds good to me!"  
"Hold on mister," said Stafford, "the Reds didn't win."  
"Huh?" Jall's face fell as realization struck home, "Oh, sh**t."  
It was true that the Reds had one the last (and most difficult) match. But the Greens had won the Capture the Flag match and the Blues had won the first match, leaving the teams tied.  
"Why the heck did we only three matches anyway?" demanded Dr. Wowryk.  
"Because," Stafford said, "The original plan was for two teams to play best two out of three. But somebody screwed that all to hell, didn't she?"  
"Well excuse me," muttered Wowryk.  
"What about a tie-breaker?" asked Yanick.  
"We're already taking everything apart," said Jeffery.  
"And we've used the time allocated to this activity," added Noonan, "I will remind you all that there is no prize to be won. This exercise was about improving our abilities."  
"No prize?" demanded Jall, "F**k it then. I say we all get drunk and celebrate a job well done!"  
The remainder of the senior staff exchanged glances.  
"Did Jall just say something nobody is objecting to?" asked T'Parief in shock.  
Wowryk rose her hand.  
"I will object on account of-,"  
"First round's on me!" interrupted Yanick as she led the rush for the door.

End

Next: The Silverado crew is trapped as they investigate a planet where time seems to have the hiccups. Dr. Wowryk and Lieutenant Jall team up in 'You Can Say That Again,' coming soon to a Nexus near you!


	14. 14 - You Can Say That Again!

Star Traks: Silverado

1.14 You Can Say That Again!

"Warp 7.6!" cried Ensign Yanick, shouting to be heard over the Red Alert Klaxon and the frightened cries of refugees.  
"The wave will hit us in 10 seconds," called Fifebee frantically.  
"Yanick, take us to Warp 9," yelled Stafford.  
Yanick gulped as she increased the ship's speed to Warp 9, far faster than her barely broken-in warp drive had ever taken her before  
A low rumble started to build from the ship's superstructure as stresses increased. The rumble built up to a steady pounding.  
"Wave will hit us in one minute!" reported Fifebee, "It's still gaining!"  
"Bridge!" came Jeffery's panicked but still thickly accented voice from engineering, "We canna take this any longer! The engines are goin' to overload!"  
"Maximum warp!" Stafford ordered, "put the wave on screen!"  
The screen switched to a rear view with the ship's nacelles visible on the bottom of the screen. A massive, expanding sphere of energy was spreading out in all directions directly behind them.  
"Warp 9.1!" yelled Yanick from the conn, "9.2!"  
"Structural integrity at 80%" reported Jall, pushing a terrified refugee away from his station.  
"We will be out of range of the wave in one minute, 20 seconds," reported Noonan.  
"Impact in 50 seconds," reported Fifebee.  
"Faster Trish!" Stafford snapped, "Or we're not going to make it!"  
"Warp 9.4!"  
"This is Silverado's maximum rated speed," Noonan said, worry evident on his face.  
"Coolant leak!" shouted Jeffery from engineering, "Ah'm tryin' to lock it down!"  
"Wave will impact in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"  
There was a bright flash of light, then Silverado was gone.

Three days earlier:

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56324.32

As we continue our exploration of this region of space, we've discovered….ABSOLUTLY NOTHING! Well, not in the past week or two anyway. Sure, we had our fun war game, got seduced and discovered that the whack-jobs responsible for half our problems live nearby, but the novelty is fading fast."  
"On the bright side, we've picked up some very interesting readings from a nearby system and have changed course to investigate!"

"Are you sure this is wise?" asked Fifebee.  
"Sure it is," said Jall with an easy smile, "have I ever led you wrong?"  
"Don't even start!" snapped Dr. Wowryk.  
"Oh, you know you want me!"  
Fifebee rolled her eyes. At this point, she knew better than to get involved. The best thing to do would be to wait until they got it out of their systems.  
"So," Jall was saying, "getting the urge to hop on a shuttle and see if the Matrians are looking for power-mad she-bitches?"  
"Hardly," said Wowryk coldly, "I've been far to busy wondering how it is that you could resist the charms of all those beautiful Senousian women. I'm starting to think you might prefer activities that are less than proper!"  
"According to the Pope," Jall shot back, "EVERYTHING is 'less than proper'!"  
Fifebee tapped at her panel. The three of them were located in Science Lab 1. In the center of the room was the Matrian Spatial Interphase Device, also known as a Dream Machine or SID. Despite Starfleet's belief that the Matrians were just attempting to communicate, Stafford and Noonan believed a confrontation was unavoidable. Fifebee and Wowryk had been studying the effects the device had had on the crew for months and with Jall's help they were finally ready to test out a defense.  
"If either of you care," she said, interrupting a cutting remark made by Dr. Wowryk regarding Jall's personal hygiene, "the subspace bubble is ready."  
"Oh, sweet!" said Jall, "Now are we ready to test it out?"  
"Yes. I will extend the bubble around yourself and Dr. Wowryk, then activate the SID."  
"What if it doesn't work?" Wowryk asked worriedly.  
"Then," Jall answered, "we get the added pleasure of killing each other to escape Dreamland."  
"I can live with that," Wowryk admitted, "what about you, Fifebee?"  
"My holographic body is impervious to the effects. I will observe."  
"Gotcha."  
Fifebee activated the subspace bubble.  
"Is it on?" Wowryk asked doubtfully.  
"Yes. The bubble is functioning properly. I am engaging the SID now."  
Fifebee flicked the large switch on the lower portion of the device to the 'ON' position. A series of lights flashed to life on the device as it gave a soft hum.  
"I am limiting the power output," Fifebee said, "The effects of the device will reach only 10 meters."  
"I don't feel anything," said Jall.  
"Me neither."  
Fifebee tapped at a tricorder.  
"It appears we are successful."  
"Who-hoo!" sang Jall, "Wait, why do I care?"  
"We now know how to use the ship's warp engines to protect us from the Matrian SIDs. "  
"Oh, yeah. Goody."  
There was a sudden squeal as power built up in the subspace generator, then a shower of sparks as the generator overloaded and died. Thinking fast, Fifebee hit the cutoff switches for both the generator and the SID.  
"Back to the old drawing board?" asked Wowryk.  
"Hardly," replied Fifebee, "there was an external subspace surge that interfered with the generator. The damage is easy to fix."  
Wowryk was running her tricorder over Jall and herself.  
"We've each received small doses of subspace radiation," she reported, "not enough to do any damage, fortunately."  
"Well, if we're done here," Jall said happily, "who's up for martinis?"

Stafford was sitting in his usual spot in Unbalanced Equations when Jall, Fifebee and Wowryk walked through the door. Jall was in an uncharacteristically good mood, although Stafford wasn't sure if that meant the experiments with the SID had been a success or a dismal failure. The three officers stopped by the bar to say hello to Steven, the always present, always friendly bartender, then split off in their own separate directions; Fifebee towards Ensign Puk, a Betazoid scientist with whom she was forging a new friendship, Jall towards his own little corner and Noel heading straight for Stafford.  
Stafford was even more amazed to see that not only was Dr. Wowryk smiling, she was carrying two drinks.  
"Good evening, Chris," she said, handing him a drink with a smile, "I hope you've had a pleasant day,"  
"Um, it's been great," he said cautiously, "We'll be reaching the Horison system tomorrow. The star is a red giant, Fifebee thinks it could go supernova relatively soon. And the weird subspace readings we've been getting have the whole science team raring to go."  
"That's very interesting," Noel said, "And you've been feeling well?"  
"Ok, that's it," Stafford said, "What did I do now?"  
"Do now?"  
"You're either about to crush me like a bug, or you want something." Stafford said flatly.  
"Now why would you say…OK, fine," Wowryk let the sugary sweetness fall out of her tone, although she remained reasonably friendly, "it's about Simon."  
"Yes, what about him?" Stafford asked.  
"I need you two to kiss and make up,"  
Stafford shuddered.  
"Look, Doc, I'm not that kinda guy," he said.  
"Not literally!" Wowryk objected, "Please! I mean I need you two to start being friends again."  
"I arrested him," Stafford pointed out, "he's not really thrilled about that."  
"He's less upset with you than you think," Wowryk, "he blames himself. He only leaves his quarters to work; he can barely speak to me. He's depressed!"  
"I thought you wanted him that way," Stafford said coolly.  
"He's suffered enough," Wowryk stated, "I am ready to forgive him and welcome him back into the flock."  
"What flock? We don't have any birds."  
"The saying refers to sheep, actually."  
"We don't have any sheep either!"  
"I think you're missing the point here."  
"Is this one of those God and Catholicism things again?"  
"Yes."  
"'Nuff said," Stafford sighed, "So you forgive him. What's the problem?"  
"He hasn't forgiven himself yet. I figure that reforming your friendship with him would be a great way to rebuild his self-esteem."  
"Don't we have a counselor for that?" Stafford whined.  
"You do forgive him, don't you?" Wowryk asked.  
"Of course I do. But I don't like dealing with people who are mad at me…." Stafford trailed off.  
"If you don't take Simon for a boys night out tomorrow, I will be VERY mad at you." Wowryk gave Stafford her best 'burn-in-the-lake-of-fire' glare.  
"Yes ma'am."

Lieutenant Jall awoke the next morning to the loud blaring of his computer wake-up call.  
Groaning incoherently, Jall stumbled to his replicator.  
"Bcn, gegs, test, anna cup of cufee"  
"Command unclear, please repeat," said the computer in its formal monotone. Then, back into its more matronly voice, "That means, honey, I don't have a clue what the heck you're trying to say!"  
"Why, oh why did I program you to act like the Captain's mothe?" Jall moaned, leaning his head against the panel, "Bacon, eggs, toast and a cup of coffee, please,"  
"If you didn't stay up so late," the computer said primly as the meal materialized, "you wouldn't be so tired in the morning."  
"Less talk, more eat," muttered Jall as he started shoveling food into his mouth.  
Feeling much more awake once he had eaten, Jall showered, dressed and left for his bridge shift. On his way out the door, he stopped to quickly check his reflection in his replicator panel.  
"Aw, f**k!"

Dr. Wowryk had just finished her morning prayers at the small alter in her office when Lieutenant Jall came storming in, hands at his temples.  
"Good morning, Lieutenant," she purred, "May the grace of God grant you the peace you desire,"  
"What?"  
"Never mind," Wowryk muttered. So much for trying for a more friendly, spiritual greeting, "How may I help you?"  
"Look, Doc, first of all, you've gotta promise to keep this secret," Jall said hurriedly.  
"Of course. I am your doctor, after all. What's wrong?"  
Jall took his hands away, revealing faint Trill spots running from his temples, down the sides of his face and into his collar.  
Wowryk looked at him.  
"And the problem would be?"  
"The spots!" Jall hissed.  
"You're half Trill. It's normal for you to have spots. It's odd that they weren't there yesterday though. I wonder if this has something to do with the radiation…."  
"Actually, no," Jall admitted, "I've always had them."  
"Now I'm lost," Wowryk admitted.  
"I need you to cover them up! I get them removed every six months, but they keep coming back Give them another 2 days and they'll be darker than, um, some really dark thing!"  
"Why would you want to cover them up?" Wowryk asked, "You body was created by God. It's blasphemous to alter it from his divine blueprint."  
"Divine blueprint? Give me a break!"  
"Ok," Wowryk snapped,"I couldn't come up with a better word! But the point remains!"  
"Look," Jall said, "on the Trill homeworld, non-joined Trill are second-class citizens at best. I'm half-human, so my odds of being joined are almost zilch, which I'm fine with. But I'd rather have people assume I'm mostly human than a sub-standard Trill."  
"I suppose that makes sense," Wowryk conceded, "It's very vain, but it is your body." She grabbed a pigmentation alteration device and started removing the spots.  
"Thanks, Doc," Jall muttered.  
There were a few moments of silence.  
"If you want me to get all of these," Wowryk said, "you will need to disrobe."  
"Um, no offense Doc," Jall said nervously, "but I don't wanna get naked in front of you. If you could just get the ones on my shoulders and back that would be great."  
"Very well."  
Jall removed his shirt and Noel continued to work her way down, erasing the spots as she went.  
"You know," she said, "I don't think anybody on this ship would really care about the spots," she said.  
"You'd be surprised," Jall replied, "First question my mother would get from almost every Starfleet officer was 'oh, are you joined'?"  
"I guess that could be annoying. But don't forget that Silverado is a bit different from other Starfleet ships. I doubt most of the crew would notice, and those that did likely won't care. The senior staff knows you're half Trill anyway. It's right in your file."  
"True enough," Jall pulled his shirt back on as Wowryk finished, "Thanks, Doc."

Captain's Log, Stardate 56325.02

"We've entered the Horison system to investigate some unusual subspace readings as well as to take some scans of the star. Starfleet has seen dozens of red giant stars go supernova, so we will focus our energy on the subspace anomalies."  
"Unfortunately, we've found some very, very bad news."

"How many again?," Stafford asked softly.  
"4.3 billion, sir," Fifebee said, her voice subdued.  
"This isn't fair," Yanick objected, a tear in her eye.  
The focus of their attention was the M-class planet that their sensors had detected. The subspace interference had disrupted their scans, but as they came closer to the system they had detected not only the planet, but also the fact that it was inhabited.  
Normally, the discovery of an inhabited world was cause for celebration, an opportunity to learn about new cultures, ways of thinking or even a chance to welcome a new race into the Federation.  
But not today.  
"It should be noted," Fifebee said, "that based on our sensor readings, it will be between 2 and 200 years before the star goes supernova. That may afford the Federation time to effect an evacuation."  
"They're a pre-warp civilization facing a natural disaster," Noonan pointed out sadly, "the Prime Directive applies. There are signs of electromagnetic activity, indicating they have discovered radio, television and so forth, but no sign of any space travel at all. Even if we were to ignore the Prime Directive Starfleet would not support us, and we cannot evacuate 4.3 billion people ourselves."  
"There must be some precedent for this!" Stafford objected.  
"There is. The species in question was left to their own devices and managed to escape 2 years before the supernova occurred."  
Even Jall had no sarcastic remarks to bring up.  
"Then every person on that planet is going to die," he said.  
"And their deaths will be without honor," T'Parief grunted.  
Stafford, who was pacing in front of his chair, turned and delivered a hard, swift kick to the bridge railing.  
"F**K!" he screamed.  
"Indeed," agreed Noonan, "Unless they discover warp drive before their star explodes, they are doomed."  
"Captain," Fifebee said, her voice shaky, "I've detected the source of the subspace readings,"  
"Who cares?" Jall snapped, "We're kind of busy being upset here!"  
"Onscreen," Stafford said.  
Jaws dropped across the bridge.  
The object was huge. Massive. Over 100 kilometers in diameter, it made Waystation look like a speck of dust. The main portion of the artifact was a smooth surface sphere. Three massive rings spun slowly around the sphere, each on a different axis. The entire thing orbited the planet in the approximate position where one would expect to find a moon or natural satellite.  
"What the hell is that thing?" asked Jall.  
"An excellent question," agreed Noonan.  
"Unknown," Fifebee said, "it does not match any known object on record. The materials making up the artifact's surface are likewise unknown. However, it is the source of the subspace disturbance. And the disturbance is increasing at a geometric rate."  
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Stafford said, "But there is no way those poor people could have built this thing."  
"No chance whatsoever," Fifebee replied.  
"We split into two teams," Stafford said, "Fifebee, Jall and Jeffery will be studying the artifact. Yanick, Noonan and Dr. Wowryk will analyze radio transmissions from the surface. Let's learn what we can about these people. It may be our last chance."

Fifebee was in Science Lab 1 and had been joined by Jeffery and Jall.  
"I have no clue how that thing works, or what it's supposed to do," Jall said.  
They had been studying the artifact for several hours now, and had learned very little.  
"By following the power build-up rate," Fifebee said, "I believe that whatever function the device is intended for will be carried out soon and will involve a huge release of energy."  
"Yer goin' on supposition," Jeffery said, "It could go off tomorrow, it could go off in 10 years. We canna possibly know."  
"Look at the rotation of the rings," Fifebee pointed out, bringing up a visual image of the device with the three rotating rings highlighted. "They NEVER completely align. Yet with each rotation, they come closer to doing so. Based on my calculations, the rings will be perfectly aligned in 45 hours, 23 minutes and 10 seconds."  
"I really don't think we want to be around when this thing goes off," Jall said.  
"We have no idea what it does. It could be beneficial."  
"I highly doubt that. Big, mysterious artifacts are rarely good things."  
Fifebee checked her internal chrono.  
"In any event," she said, "the overnight shift will continue to analyze our findings. We should reconvene in the morning to continue our analysis."  
"Gotcha."

Jeffery sat in his quarters, sipping whiskey. He didn't want to admit it in front of the others, but the artifact had disturbed him in a very deep way. He had read reports of strange devices; the Dyson Sphere, a gigantic sphere enclosing an entire star, for example. Or the massive ring world built by the ancient Ithecans. But seeing one of these gigantic wonders with his own eyes gave him a new fear and respect for whoever could build something of such size and power.  
His musings were interrupted by the door chime.  
"Who is it?" he asked.  
"Chis," came the reply.  
"Oh. Come in."  
Stafford walked uneasily through the door.  
"How ya doin'?" he asked.  
"Fine. You?"  
"Fine."  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Wanna come grab a drink?" Stafford asked finally.  
"Not really."  
"C'mon. You've been spending too much time sitting in here by yourself. Let's go."  
"How would ye know what I've been doing?"  
"Well," Stafford hesitated, "Ok, fine. Noel came to see me. She's really worried about you. Says you're spending too much time along, still kicking yourself over what happened with her."  
"But I-"  
"I don't want to hear it!" Stafford snapped, surprising both of them, "You've done your time. She's forgiven you. It's in the past. It was a stupid mistake, but we don't think any less of you for it! Now we want you to come back, so things can be the way they were before."  
Jeffery hesitated.  
"Yer right," he said, "I mean, compared to what's going to happen to those people down there, our problems seem pretty stupid, don't they?"

Jeffery and Stafford stepped into Unbalanced Equations. Yanick, Wowryk, T'Parief and Jall were all seated by the large windows, looking out at the planet. Wowryk stood to give Jeffery a quick hug, shooting Stafford a grateful look over Jeffery's shoulder.  
"Ah should be happy," Jeffery said, as he looked down at the planet, "but it's kinda hard right now."  
"Tell me about it," Yanick said. T'Parief was holding her as tears continued to spill from her eyes to the carpet."  
"They have a chance," Stafford said, "If they discover warp drive in time, they can escape, or at least the Federation will be able to render aid."  
"What are the odds of that?" Wowryk asked.  
"Not good."  
As Silverado orbited the planet, they passed between the planet and the huge artifact orbiting it.  
"Did you guys learn anything interesting about that thing?" Stafford asked Jeffery.  
"Fifebee is giving our findings at the staff briefing tomorrow," Jeffery said, "it boils down to 'we don't know what it is or what it does, but we think it's going to go off in two days."  
"Two days?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"Bummer."

"And so," Fifebee concluded in her presentation, "we don't know what it is or what it does, but we think it's going to activate sometime tomorrow."  
Jeffery shot Stafford a knowing look, causing Stafford to have to fight back a grin.  
"And Mr. Noonan, what have you discovered?"  
"We've analyzed radio, television and even some wireless data transmissions from the planet," Noonan said, "They are in the middle of their first Computer Age, but have no spaceflight whatsoever. Apparently, they have only recently become aware of what is likely to happen to their star. At this point, only the planetary government knows and they are keeping the fact hidden from the general population while they try to formulate a plan."  
"They already have a planetary government?" Fifebee asked, "That's unusual for planets at this stage of their development."  
"Indeed," agreed Noonan, "the First Contact office will undoubtedly want to send in a team to determine their rating on the Richter Scale of Culture. "  
"If there's time," Stafford said darkly, bringing another round of tears from Trish.  
"So what do we do?"  
"We'll keep studying the planet and the artifact until tomorrow," Stafford decided, "We'll leave a probe behind so we can study the device from a safe distance when it goes off. We'll contact Starfleet, they can send out a science vessel. Frankly, I want to get out of here as soon as possible."  
"Agreed," rumbled T'Parief.

The next day, Stafford was sitting in his chair, staring at the artifact on the screen. Those rings just kept turning, over and over again. To his eye it looked like they were aligning themselves every hour or so, but Fifebee assured him that they were still almost a meter away from full alignment.  
Fifebee and Jall had returned to the bridge to monitor the device in the last few hours before departure. Now, with little more than an hour to go, Fifebee was finishing final adjustments on the probe they were leaving behind.  
Stafford was suddenly pulled from his musings by a loud beeping on Fifebee's console.  
"What is it?" he snapped.  
"Power levels in the artifact are spiking," she said, "Subspace distortions continue to grow at the expected rate, but I'm now reading neutrinos, veteran particles and chronometric particle fields."  
"Translate?"  
"I think," Fifebee said, "that thing is about to go up in a very large and impressive bang,"  
"What impact will the detonation have on the planet?" demanded Noonan.  
Fifebee tapped at her panel for several seconds, then looked at Stafford and shook her head.  
Stafford swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed again.  
"How long," he finally asked.  
"One hour, 5 minutes," Fifebee replied softly.  
"Captain," Noonan said, "The Prime Directive-"  
"Does NOT apply! A supernova may be natural development, but THAT," Stafford pointed at the artifact, "sure as hell IS NOT."  
He paced the bridge for a moment.  
"Ok, f**k this," Stafford snapped, "I'm about to do that whole breaking of orders thing now, so if anybody has a problem with that you better speak up. I'll ignore you now and make a note of it later."  
"F**k the rules," Jall said finally. There were nods of agreement around the bridge.  
"Good man," Stafford said, "all hands, this is the Captain. We're detecting dangerous readings from the artifact in this system and will be leaving immediately. But we're taking as many of these people with us as we can. Transporter rooms, start beaming up as many people as possible. I need all available personnel helping with our new guests. They're going to be frightened and confused. Fill the cargo bays, shuttlebays and guest quarters first, then start packing them into every open space we have on this crate! Stafford out."  
The next hour was a frenzy of activity.  
The transporters on the ship, the shuttles and the runabout ran overtime, bringing up hundreds of frightened people. Every available Starfleet officer was explaining over and over again what was happening; the large device in the sky was going to do something really bad. Yes, we're evacuating everybody we can. No, we're not going to perform experiments on you.  
Stafford paced the bridge frantically as reports on the evacuation came in. He continued to pace until the bridge became so crowded with refugees he was forced to sit back down.  
"Two minutes to activation," Fifebee reported.  
"We need to depart now," Noonan said sadly.  
"Another minute", Stafford said, "we can still hold more."  
"Life support is being strained beyond specifications."  
"I don't care! We only have a few thousand people out of more than 4 billion!"  
"One minute."  
"30 seconds."  
"Transporter rooms," Stafford said, "stop beaming people aboard. Prepare for warp speed."  
"10 seconds."  
"Ensign Yanick," Stafford ordered, eyes on the planet on the viewscreen, "Set course to Waystation. Warp 7"  
"Aye sir," Yanick forced out through her tears.  
Silverado turned and jumped into warp.

The artifact swung around the bulk of the planet as it's charging cycle completed. The three huge rings came into perfect alignment then locked. The sphere itself opened on both ends revealing a massive energy core glowing with a brilliant blue light.  
The light exploded outward in all directions, washing over the planet in a nanosecond and rushing out to encompass the entire system.

"I'm reading a massive energy wave," Fifebee reported, "The wave is comprised of a variety of exotic particles and is gaining on us!"  
"Red alert!" cried Stafford, "Yanick, take us up to Warp 7.6!"  
"Warp 7.6!" cried Ensign Yanick, shouting to be heard over the Red Alert Klaxon, and the frightened cries of refugees.  
"The wave will hit us in 10 seconds," called Fifebee frantically.  
"Yanick, take us to Warp 9," yelled Stafford.  
Yanick gulped as she increased the ship's speed to Warp 9, far faster than her barely broken-in warp drive had ever taken her before.  
A low rumble started to build from the ship's superstructure as stresses increased. The rumble built up to a steady pounding.  
"Wave will hit us in one minute!" reported Fifebee, "It's still gaining!"  
"Bridge!" came Jeffery's panicked but still thickly accented voice from engineering," We canna take this any longer! The engines are goin' to overload!"  
"Maximum warp!" Stafford ordered, "put the wave on screen!"  
The screen switched to a rear view, with the ship's nacelles visible on the bottom of the screen. A massive, expanding sphere of energy was spreading out in all directions directly behind them.  
"Warp 9.1!" yelled Yanick from the conn, "9.2!"  
"Structural integrity at 80%" reported Jall, pushing a terrified refugee away from his station.  
"We will be out of range of the wave in one minute, 20 seconds," reported Noonan.  
"Impact in 50 seconds," reported Fifebee.  
"Faster Trish!" Stafford snapped, "Or we're not going to make it!"  
"Warp 9.4!"  
"This is Silverado's maximum rated speed," Noonan said, worry evident on his face.  
"Coolant leak!" shouted Jeffery from engineering, "Ah'm tryin' to lock it down!"  
"Wave will impact in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"  
There was a bright flash of light, then Silverado was gone.

Round 2

Lieutenant Jall awoke to the loud blaring of his computer wake-up call.  
Groaning incoherently, Jall stumbled to his replicator.  
"Bcn, gegs, test, anna cup of cufee"  
"Command unclear, please repeat," said the computer in it's formal monotone. Then, back into it's more matronly voice, "That means, honey, I don't have a clue what the heck you're trying to say!"  
"Why, oh why did I program you to act like the Captain's mother?" Jall moaned, leaning his head against the panel, "Bacon, eggs, toast and a cup of coffee please,"  
"If you didn't stay up so late," the computer said primly as the meal materialized, "you wouldn't be so tired in the morning."  
"Less talk, more eat," muttered Jall as he started shoveling food into his mouth.  
Feeling much more awake once he had eaten, Jall showered, dressed and left for his bridge shift. On his way out the door, he stopped to quickly check his reflection in his replicator panel.  
"Aw, f**k!"

Dr. Wowryk had just finished her morning prayers at the small alter in her office when Lieutenant Jall came storing in, hands at his temples.  
"Good morning, Lieutenant," she purred, "May the grace of God grant you the peace you desire,"  
"What?"  
"Nevermind," Wowryk muttered. So much for trying for a more friendly, spiritual greeting, "How may I help you,"  
"Look, Doc, first of all, you've gotta promise to keep this secret," Jall said hurriedly.  
Wowryk started to speak, then paused.  
"I'm getting the strangest feeling of déjà vu," she said.  
"You didn't by any chance have a nightmare about exploding stars and big, weird alien gadgets, did you?" Jall asked.  
"Yes, actually," Wowryk said, shocked, "How did you know that?"  
"I had the same one."  
"Wait," Wowryk said, "Are you here about getting your spots removed?"  
"How the F**K do you know about that!?"  
"Because that's what you asked me to do in the dream."  
"This is really screwed up," Jall said.  
"We should go see the Captain." Wowryk headed for the door.  
"Hold on!" Jall called, "What about my spots?"  
"Oh, right,"

Stafford was standing by Fifebee's console when Jall and Wowryk stepped out of the turbolift.  
"Captain," started Wowryk, "Jall and I just had the exact same dream. It could be the effect of an SID."  
"Not now, Stafford said hurriedly, "we've just detected an inhabited planet in this system. We're trying to confirm, but if it is, you might want to pray to God that they've got the technology to escape this system before the star goes supernova."  
Jall and Wowryk exchanged glances.  
"Captain," Wowryk said cautiously, "Do you remember doing any of this already? Any feelings that maybe you've done this before?"  
"No, dammit!" Stafford swore, "now please lay off the dreams until we're done with this crisis!"  
"Captain," Fifebee said, a slight tremor in her voice, "It has been confirmed. The planet is inhabited by a pre-warp civilization. Population, 4.3 billion."  
Silence descended on the bridge as Jall and Wowryk again exchanged glances.  
"How many again?" Stafford asked softly.  
"4.3 billion, sir," Fifebee said, her voice subdued.  
"This isn't fair," Yanick objected, a tear in her eye.  
Jall pulled Wowryk aside.  
"I see two possibilities," he said, "we each had a prophetic dream, or we just hit a temporal quasality loop. Now, I'm betting on the latter, but we can't be sure."  
"I've read about temporal quasalities," Wowryk said, "Why weren't we affected?"  
"We did get a dose of subspace radiation."  
"Would that do it?'  
"I dunno."  
"What do we do?"  
"We go through it all over again," Jall said with a sigh of resignation.  
"But we're talking about the destruction of the ship!"  
"Do you remember the ship being destroyed?"  
"Well, no.."  
"Look," Jall said firmly, "We can't turn that overgrown cherry bomb off. All we can do is run away. If it is a bomb we would have at least save those 3 thousand refugees we managed to rescue from certain death. If it's a time loop, we'll try something different next time.  
"I don't like this," Wowryk said sadly, "I don't want to go through this all over again."  
"Me neither. But we have to."

Fifebee was in Science Lab One and had been joined by Jeffery and Jall.  
"I have no clue how that thing works, or what it's supposed to do," Jall said, working to remember his lines.  
They had been studying the artifact for several hours now, and had learned very little.  
"By following the power build-up rate," Fifebee said, "I believe that whatever function the device is intended for will be carried out soon, and will involve a huge release of energy."  
"Yer goin' on supposition," Jeffery said, "It could go off tomorrow, it could go off in 10 years. We canna possibly know."  
"Look at the rotation of the rings," Fifebee pointed out, bringing up a visual image of the device with the three rotating rings highlighted. "They NEVER completely align. Yet with each rotation, they come closer to doing so. Based on my calculations, the rings will be perfectly aligned in 45 hours, 23 minutes and 10 seconds."  
"Yes, then we get a really lovely explosion," Jall said.  
"We have no idea what it does. It could be beneficial."  
"Yeah, right," Jall sighed, "if only I could believe that."  
Fifebee checked her internal chrono.  
"In any event," she said, "the overnight shift will continue to analyze our findings. We should reconvene in the morning to continue our analysis."  
"Gotcha."

Warp 9.1!" yelled Yanick from the conn, "9.2!"  
"Structural integrity at 80%" reported Jall, pushing a terrified refugee away from his station. He hadn't noticed before, but the alien had really rotten body odor.  
"We will be out of range of the wave in one minute, 20 seconds," reported Noonan.  
"Impact in 50 seconds," reported Fifebee.  
"Faster Trish!" Stafford snapped, "Or we're not going to make it!"  
"Warp 9.4!"  
"This is Silverado's maximum rated speed," Noonan said, worry evident on his face.  
"Coolant leak!" shouted Jeffery from engineering, "Ah'm tryin' to lock it down!"  
"Wave will impact in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"  
There was a bright flash of light, then Silverado was gone.

Round 3

Lieutenant Jall awoke to the loud blaring of his computer wake-up call.  
Groaning incoherently, Jall stumbled to his replicator.  
"Bcn, gegs, test, anna cup of cufee"  
"Command unclear, please repeat," said the computer in it's formal monotone. Then, back into it's more matronly voice, "That means, honey, I don't have a clue what the heck you're trying to say!"  
"Why, oh why did I program you to act like the Captain's mother," Jall moaned, leaning his head against the panel, "Bacon, eggs, toast and a cup of coffee please,"  
"If you didn't stay up so late," the computer said primly as the meal materialized, "you wouldn't be so tired in the morning."  
"Less talk, more eat," muttered Jall as he started shoveling food into his mouth.  
Feeling much more awake once he had eaten, Jall showered, dressed and left for his bridge shift. On his way out the door, he stopped to quickly check his reflection in his replicator panel.  
"Aw, f**k!"

Jall stormed into Sickbay. Wowryk was waiting for him.  
"Ok, it's official. We're stuck in a time loop."  
"Yippee for us," Wowryk snapped.  
"Let's go see the Captain."

Stafford was standing by Fifebee's console when Jall and Wowryk stepped out of the turbolift.  
"Captain," started Wowryk, "Jall and I need to talk to you."  
"Not now, Stafford said hurriedly, "we've just detected an inhabited planet in this system. We're trying to confirm, but if it is, you might want to pray to God that they've got the technology to escape this system before the star goes supernova."  
"The planet is inhabited with a pre-warp population of 4.3 billion, there's a gigantic alien artifact that keeps blowing up the system and we're stuck in a time loop." Jall said quickly.  
Stafford glared at him.  
"Look, now is REALLY not the time for your stupid jokes!" He stepped back down to his chair.  
"Well," Wowryk said, "that's not really the reaction I expected."  
"Just wait," Jall said calmly.  
"Captain," Fifebee said, a slight tremor in her voice, "It has been confirmed. The planet is inhabited by a pre-warp civilization. Population, 4.3 billion."  
Silence descended on the bridge as Jall and Wowryk again exchanged glances.  
"How many again?," Stafford asked softly.  
"4.3 billion, sir," Fifebee said, her voice subdued.  
"This isn't fair," Yanick objected, a tear in her eye.  
Stafford looked at Jall.  
"How did you know that?" he demanded.  
"This is our third time doing this," Jall explained, "only the evil bitch-doctor and I remember because we were exposed to a subspace field pulse while we were testing defenses against the SIDs."  
"So what do we do?" Stafford asked unsteadily.  
"In 2 days, the huge alien artifact you're about to detect is going to release a huge energy burst, powerful enough to devastate this entire system. We're going to try to escape with a handful of refugees, get caught by the wave and reappear here."  
"You mean in two days over 4 billion people are going to die," Noonan said sadly.  
"I-" Jall choked up, "Yeah, I guess I do."  
Stafford snapped.  
'T'Parief, throw this prick in the brig. This is the last time I'm going to deal with his stupid pranks."

T'Parief pushed Jall roughly into the brig and activated the force field.  
"Look, I'm not kidding!" he insisted, "It's going to happen!"  
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to put you in here!" T'Parief said with a leering grin, "Hey, when did you get the spots?"  
"Aw, f**k!"

Wowryk was in science lab two with Noonan and Yanick. Yanick was sitting at one of the panels, wiping it repeatedly as her tears kept falling. Noonan was looking even more pale then usual as he worked at channeling the radio broadcasts from the planet through the Universal Translator.  
"I'm telling you, he's on the level!" Wowryk snapped.  
"We are all very stressed out right now," Noonan said, "Mr. Jall's statements on the matter are only exaggerating the issue."  
"Right, but if we don't start doing things different, we're going to be trapped here forever…" Wowryk trailed off, then burst out laughing. And this wasn't any normal laugh. It was the release of almost 5 days of tension, stress, sadness, regret and fear.  
"Noel," Trish wailed, "this isn't a laughing matter!"  
"Oh," Wowryk gasped, "this is amazing! This is perfect!"  
"Dr. Wowryk we're looking at a planet of people that is very likely to be destroyed within the next century. This isn't a laughing matter.  
"You're wrong!" Wowryk forced out between fits of happy laughter.  
Noonan pulled an emergency medkit from the wall, injecting Wowryk with a sedative.

"And so," Fifebee concluded in her presentation, "we don't know what it is or what it does, but we think it's going to activate tomorrow."  
Jeffery shot Stafford a knowing look, causing Stafford to have to fight back a grin.  
"And Mr. Noonan, what have you discovered?"  
"We've analyzed radio, television and even some wireless data transmissions from the planet," Noonan said, "We were hampered by Dr. Wowryk's breakdown, but we have established that they are in the middle of their first Computer Age and have no spaceflight whatsoever. Apparently, they have only recently become aware of what is likely to happen to their star. At this point, only the planetary government knows, and they are keeping the fact hidden from the general population while they try to formulate a plan."  
"They already have a planetary government?" Fifebee asked, "That's unusual for planets at this stage of their development."  
"Indeed," agreed Noonan, "the First Contact office will undoubtedly want to send in a team to determine their rating on the Richter Scale of Culture. "  
"If there's time," Stafford said darkly, bringing another round of tears from Trish.  
"So what do we do?"  
"We'll keep studying the planet and the artifact until tomorrow," Stafford decided, "We'll leave a probe behind so we can study the device from a safe distance when it goes off. We'll contact Starfleet, they can send out a science vessel. Frankly, I want to get out of here as soon as possible."  
"Agreed," rumbled T'Parief.  
"How is the good doctor?" Stafford asked.  
"We've kept her sedated," Noonan responded, "She will likely need counseling."  
"I imagine many of us will," Stafford said.

"Wave will impact in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"  
As the time counted to zero, Stafford's last thought was of how much it sucked to have spent his last hour alive contemplating that Jall had actually been telling the truth about something.  
There was a bright flash of light, then Silverado was gone.

Round 4

Dr. Wowryk awakened in her quarters feeling happy and full of positive energy. She quickly showered and ate breakfast, stopping to genuflect at the huge crucifix hanging from her wall. Walking to Sickbay she smiled and warmly greeted every crewman she passed, leaving more than one very confused ensign in her trail.  
Kneeling before the altar in her office, she said her morning prayers then sat back to wait for Jall to enter.  
"All right," he snapped, "this time, the direct approach is definitely out!"  
Wowryk grinned at him.  
"What? What the hell are you so f**king happy about?"  
Unable to contain herself, Wowryk seized Jall in a tight bear hug.  
"Woah! Woah!" Jall objected, "I'm happy to see you too! Or at least I would be if I knew what the hell was going on!"  
"I FIGURED IT OUT!" Wowryk finally shouted with joy.  
"What? Figured what out?"  
"The artifact! We've got it all wrong! It's not here to destroy the planet! It's here to SAVE it!"

Jall and Wowryk were in Science Lab 1. Jall started scanning the artifact the second the ship was in range.  
"Everybody upstairs is going to be getting really depressed about now," Wowryk said, "Can't we tell them?"  
"They'll never believe us," Jall said, "besides, do you really want to explain it to them again and again and again?'  
"Yes!" Wowryk snapped, "This is GOOD news! It would make everybody so happy!"  
"We need to confirm your theory first," Jall said, "If you're right, the planet itself should show some kind of chronotron signature."  
"Well look!"  
"Stafford to Jall," the Captain's voice was subdued,"Get up here. We have a major situation developing."  
"Blow me, ass-wipe!" Jall shouted, then cut the channel. He turned to Wowryk, "I've always wanted to say that!"  
"Very amusing. The scans?"  
"Geological scans show evidence of upheaval about five hundred years ago," Jall said, "consistent with a planet capturing a rouge planetoid."  
"Translate, please?"  
"I think the artifact was placed in orbit about 500 years ago," Jall said.  
"Fascinating, I'm sure, but not what we're looking for!"  
"Look lady," Jall said, annoyed, "I'm just doing my job here. Unless you know of a better way to analyze a planet I suggest you shut up and let me talk!"  
"How dare you!"  
"Oh, I dare!"  
"You ignorant, savage, unholy-"  
"Yeah, I've heard all that before, you uptight bitch!"  
"RUN THE DAMNED SCANS!" Wowryk snarled.  
"The scans?" Jall smirked, "I finished those 5 minutes ago!"  
Wowryk fumed.  
"AND?"  
"By my count, the planet has undergone 15 separate repetitions of the time loop, with about 500 years per repetition."  
"So they've been repeating the last 500 years over and over again?"  
"Essentially, yes."  
"And their civilization isn't going to be destroyed by a supernova?"  
"Nope. The star is going through the loop too, as is everything in this system."  
F**K YEAH!" Wowryk hollered as she jumped up, fists in the air. Jall watched, amused.  
"So does this mean you're going to start drinking and having promiscuous sex too?" Jall asked with a smirk.  
Curbing her enthusiasm, Wowryk crossed herself and walked towards the door.  
"Where ya goin'?"  
"To see the Captain. Now that we have proof, he'll listen to us."  
"Hold on honey," Jall objected, "We need to take advantage of this opportunity while we can.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean," Jall said, "Haven't you ever wanted to do something, just to see what would happen, but been too scared to do it?"  
"Of course not! I would never want to say or do anything improper."  
"Uh-huh."  
"Oh, OK," Wowryk admitted, "maybe just a little. But we have to tell them about this first. If we starting fooling around while everybody is depressed, it will just be a terrible mess."  
"Agreed," Jall grinned, "Oh, just think of what we can get away with! And nobody will remember a thing!"

"This is disgusting," Wowryk said as she and Jall rode the turbolift to the bridge.  
"Hey, they won't remember."  
"I will," Wowryk muttered.  
"Well, count yourself lucky."  
The doors opened, and Wowryk and Jall stepped onto the bridge.  
Stafford was sitting in his chair, staring at the planet on the screen. T'Parief was the only other senior officer on the bridge, all the others were working in the science labs studying the planet or the artifact. Ensign Pysterzykz had been called up to man Ops, Ensign Menzies was manning the helm and Ensign Puk was manning the science station.  
"Jall," Stafford snapped as he turned around, "where have you-OH MY GOD!"  
The rest of the bridge crew turned to watch in horror as Jall walked butt-naked over to the port auxiliary console and started tapping away.  
"What's up, Captain?"  
Stafford's mouth opened and shut several times as he tried to speak. Unfortunately, as Noonan wasn't around to interpret for him, Jall had to wait for him to collect his wits.  
"We are in the middle of a crisis, billions of people are likely to die and you are WALKING AROUND NAKED ON MY BRIDGE!?"  
"Sure am!" Jall walked up to the viewscreen, shaking his behind at Stafford, "You like?"  
"F**k, that's disgusting!" snapped Stafford, "That's it! T'Parief, arrest this spotted freak! Hey, what's with the spots anyway…"  
"Before you arrest me," Jall said, "you may want to have Ensign Puk over there run a chronotron analysis on the planet."  
"And why the hell should I do that/"  
"Because," Jall said, sitting in Stafford's chair, "you'll find that this planet has been in a temporal quasality loop for the past 7,500 years, relieving their past 500 years again, and again, and that they will continue to do so long after we're all dead and gone!"  
Stafford looked suspiciously at Jall.  
"Ensign Puk, can you confirm that?"  
"Scanning sir," there were beeps and bloops as the Risan officer tapped at his panel. He looked up at Stafford.  
"Confirmed, sir."  
Stafford stared at Puk in awe for several moments.  
"YES!" he finally shouted, jumping up in the air. Sighs of relief were released across the bridge as everybody realized that 4.3 billion people would not, in fact, be dying anytime soon.  
"Now get the f**k off my bridge until you get some cloths on!" Stafford yelled at Jall. Jall responding by jumping out of Stafford's chair, giving the Captain a large hug, then bolting to the turbolift.  
"Dear God," Stafford shouted, "it was touching me! YUCK! YUCK!"  
"I wouldn't want to sit in that chair again if I were you either, sir," T'Parief pointed out.  
Stafford contemplated Jall's bare backside sitting in his command chair.  
"Burn it!" he ordered, "All hands, this is the Captain. I've got some really, really good news…."

"Now," Jall said to Wowryk as he pulled his uniform back on, "you can't tell me that wasn't entertaining!"  
"I would have taken a picture of Stafford's face if I didn't know it would be gone tomorrow," Wowryk admitted.  
"So, it's your turn now. What do you wanna do?"  
"Um, I don't know," Wowryk said, "I've spent most of my life repressing impure thoughts."  
"Uh-huh. Well, let Uncle Jall take care of everything. Here's what we're gonna do…"

Having learned that an entire race was not facing extinction, Stafford and Steven responded by declaring all but a skeleton crew off-duty and throwing a very large 'It's NOT the End of the World!" party. All 750 off-duty personnel, civilians, families and so forth could never fit in Unbalance Equations, so Steven quickly took over both the crew and officer's mess halls in addition to his lounge. The synthohol was flowing free as everybody tried to forget the states of complete depression they had been in almost all day. The time had already slipped past 01:00h in the morning and nobody was showing any sign of slowing down.  
"I can't believe it," Yanick said excitedly for about the 200th time, "They're gonna be OK! That makes me SOO happy!"  
"Aye," Jeffery said, I'll drink to that!"  
Jeffery's drink found itself being forcibly ejected through his nose as Noel Wowryk entered the room. Shocked crewmen exchanged glances and soft mutterings as the doctor walked by.  
Noel was decked head to toe in leather. High heel black leather boots met tight leather pants, hugging every curve of her thighs and buttocks. A strapless leather bustier did little to hide her breasts. Normally hidden by her very conservative dress, they were now very hard to miss. Black lipstick, black nail polish, a leather cap and a horsewhip finished off her ensemble.  
Stafford turned to Jeffery at least 3 times, ready to deliver a witty remark, but each time it died on his lips as Wowryk took one more step, her pants giving a sharp SCRUNCH sound with each movement. Jeffery was too shocked to even notice the burning as his whisky dripped through his nostrils. Fifebee, Yanick, T'Parief and even Noonan were too shocked to say a word.  
Wowryk stalked up to Jeffery.  
"Simon Jeffery, I presume," she said sharply.  
"Uh-huh," Simon's head bobbed like a hyperactive chipmunk as he nodded his head, "What-"  
"Silence!" Noel snapped, "You will speak when spoken to! You have been a very, very bad boy. You must be punished!"  
"Noel, I-"  
"YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS MISTRESS, YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE WORM!" Wowryk snarled.  
"Y-yes….Mistress," Jeffery stammered.  
Noel looked at Jall, unable to remember what came next. Jall pantomimed pulling. Noel nodded, then returned her attention to Jeffery.  
"Good boy!" Noel grabbed him by the back of his head, forcing his face to her breasts, then back up. Jeffery wobbled slightly, dazed. Wowryk snapped handcuffs on his wrists, then started dragging him out of the lounge as several crewmen started to applaud.  
It was several moments before Stafford could speak again.  
"What the F**K was that?" he demanded.  
"Cool, huh?" Jall laughed, drink in hand, "it took me all afternoon to coach her to do that! I think she secretly enjoyed it more than she'll ever admit!"  
"Yeah, but she just…and Simon…and she," Stafford frowned, "She's not gonna…"  
"Oh, no," Jall assured him, "She's just going to leave him tied up for a few hours.  
"Charming," muttered Stafford as he downed another drink, "what is with you two today?"  
"Just chucking some inhibitions out the window.'  
"Uh-huh. If you show up naked on my bridge again, I will forcibly amputate your reason for wearing cloths in the first place!" He stalked away from Jall.  
"In another 10 hours," Jall said to himself, "you won't have a clue it even happened!"

Wowryk met Jall in the lounge the next morning. Everybody else had either dragged themselves back to  
"So, how is Mr. Jeffery feeling this morning?"  
"He's still tied up on the rack you setup in the cargo bay."  
"That's like, almost 9 hours now!"  
"I know," Wowryk cracked an evil grin, "Oh, I've given him plenty of water. He's comfortable enough. I guess you could say I'm getting my last bit of payback."  
"Did you use the paddle I replicated for you?"  
"Of course not!' Wowryk looked insulted, "I would never do anything of the sort! Really! The very idea that I would resort to spanking my boyfriend-"  
"Squealed, didn't he?"  
"Like Yanick in a petting zoo."  
Jall and Wowryk shared a brief laugh.  
"It's almost a shame he won't remember it," Wowryk said thoughtfully, "I think he was enjoying it. And I never even touched him. Well, not with my bare skin anyway."  
"Living life on the wild side now, aren't ya?" Jall smirked.  
Wowryk sighed.  
"I suppose my behavior was less than proper," she said, "but then, I'm a lowly sinner. I can be forgiven the occasional transgression."  
"Uh-huh. Now you're justifying yourself."  
"Don't psychoanalyze me!"  
"Hey babe, this is only the first trip!"  
Their discussion was interrupted as the alarms started screaming.  
"Red Alert! Senior officers report to the bridge!"

Stafford groaned as he pulled himself out of the turbolift. He was lucky enough that synthohol didn't leave hangovers, but he was still running on one hour of sleep.  
"Report!"  
"Power levels in the artifact are spiking," Fifebee said, "Subspace distortions continue to grow at the expected rate, but I'm now reading neutrinos, veteran particles and chronometric particle fields."  
"Translate?"  
"I think," Fifebee said, "This thing is about to go up in a very large an impressive bang,"  
"What impact will this have on the planet," demanded Noonan.  
"It's OK," Jall piped in, "this triggers the loop. Everybody will be Ok."  
"Just the same, I want to get out of here. The last thing we need is to spend more time in a loop! Yanick, take us out of the system."  
Jall and Wowryk exchanged panicked glances. Jall's fingers tapped frantically at his panel.  
"Captain," Ensign Sage's voice came up from Engineering, "somebody just ejected the warp core!"  
"WHAT?" Stafford spun around to T'Parief, "Check the command authorization! Who did that?"  
T'Parief tapped at his panel.  
"Jall did it, sir,"  
Stafford turned to Jall.  
"Why?"  
"Well," Jall said, "it's really quite simple. Wowryk and I want to go through a few more loops. See, the last thing we need is for you to remember some of these stunts we've been pulling. Maybe on the next cycle we'll leave."  
"You PRICK!" Stafford snapped, "Sage! Get that core back! We've got less than an hour before this thing goes off!"

55 minutes later the artifact sent out its wave of temporal energy, catching Silverado where it drifted, warp core floating nearby.

Round 5

Doctor Noel Wowryk stalked onto the bridge. Jall had already explained (in full uniform this time) the situation regarding the temporal loop.  
"Doctor!" Stafford said happily as he walked over to her, "It's great to see you!"  
Noel hugged him briefly before kneeing him sharply in the groin.  
"That's for trying to sleep with me, you jerk!" she snapped as Stafford collapsed to the deck, gasping in pain.

Round 6

"Auto-destruct in 30 seconds," announced the computer.  
"Ok! Ok!" Stafford said, panicked, "I believe you! You can circumvent the security protocols! Good for you! Now turn it off!"  
"Maybe," Jall said, an evil gleam in his eye, "If you ask very nicely!""  
"Please turn off the self-destruct!"  
"Close," Jall grinned, "but this time, try begging!"  
"Burn in hell, you little-"  
KA-BOOM!

Round 7

Jall stood on the outer hull of the saucer section in an environmental suit, magnetic boots holding him to the hull. He set a small magnetic mount onto the hull on which he perched a small, white ball. Pulling back into a swing, he brought the golf club down and smacked the ball with all his might. The ball flew into the port nacelle grill, skimming between the plasma vent guards and into the nacelle itself. The nacelle flickered briefly as its internal containment fields fought to stabilize themselves.  
"FORE!"

Round 10

"We've reached the projected outer range of the artifact," Yanick reported from the helm.  
Stafford turned to Jall and Wowryk.  
"I really hope you two are right about this," he said.  
"Have we ever steered you wrong?" Jall asked with a large smile.  
"Oh, don't even start," muttered Stafford. T'Parief grunted.  
"The artifact will reach full power in one minute," reported Fifebee.  
"Let's take a look," Stafford said, looking at the screen.  
The bridge crew watched in awe as the three huge rings came into perfect alignment then locked. The sphere itself opened on both ends revealing a massive energy core glowing with a brilliant blue light.  
The light exploded outward in all directions, washing over the planet in a nanosecond and rushing out to encompass the entire system.  
"The wave is a unique mix of neutrinos, veteran particles and chronometric particle fields," Fifebee reported, "I will be unable to scan the planet until the wave dissipates."  
"I thought only chronotron particles were necessary for time travel," said T'Parief.  
"This isn't time travel," Fifebee said, "it's more of a really large reset button."  
"We hope," Stafford added.  
They watched in silence as the wave spread through the system before dissipating.  
"The subspace interference is gone," Fifebee reported.  
"For another 500 years, anyway," Jall said.  
"Scan the planet." Stafford ordered.  
Fifebee tapped at her panel, then looked at Stafford with a wide smile.  
"I'm picking up life signs, sir," she reported, "Approximately 2 billion. No EM emissions of any kind. Atmospheric pollution count is down. I would surmise that they have indeed reverted to an early state of civilization, between 3 and 8 hundred years prior to that which they had achieved."  
"Excellent. Prepare a report for Starfleet. I bet they'll find this interesting."

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56345.3

"We've left the Horison system and the alien artifact behind us. Starfleet will be sending a science ship out within the next two years to investigate the device. Since it's been here for millennia anyway, I don't see it going anywhere anytime soon. With another 500 years before the next 'reset', I'm sure Starfleet will have plenty of time to decide what to do when that day comes."

Wowryk sat in the lounge with Stafford, T'Parief, Noonan and Yanick. After spending nearly three weeks primary with Jall, she was ready for a change in company.  
"So it really took us 10 cycles to get out of there?" Stafford asked, "I kinda thought we were smarter than that."  
"Circumstances were against you…us," Wowryk said.  
"What I don't get," Yanick said, "Is why only a few weeks have passed out here? I mean, shouldn't it be, like, 5,000 years later?'  
"Be thankful it isn't!" Stafford said, "I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth!"  
"Lieutenant Fifebee has a long, detailed explanation," Noonan started.  
"That means boring," Yanick stage whispered.  
"Which," Noonan continued with a smile, "boils down to this: The effect the artifact had on an object was directly proportional to the time spent within the artifact's influence. As we were only there for 2.5 days rather than 500 years, we moved in 2.5 day increments."  
"Perhaps there is some higher power," T'Parief said, "who felt that it would be unjust for us to be misplaced by millennia. Possibly even the same power that created the artifact in the first place."  
"I believe God was watching over us," Wowryk said firmly.  
"We know!" everybody else said together before breaking into loud laughter.

End

Next: Don't miss Part 1 of the Silverado Season 1 Finale as I finally start explaining all the weird stuff that's been building up. Here's a hint, the title is 'Catfight, Part 1!"


	15. 15 - Catfight - Part One

Star Traks, Silverado

1.15, Catfight! - Part 1

"And it is with great pleasure," Chief Engineer Simon Jeffery stated pompously (or as pompous as his accent would allow) "that I declare Holodeck 1 complete, tested and ready for business!"  
"Here here!" called out Stafford. He handed Jeffery a champagne bottle, which the shorter man promptly smashed against the holodeck doors.  
"Maintenance," Noonan said softly as the other officers applauded, "cleanup in Holodeck 1."  
"Wet-vac or dry-vac?" came the bored voice of the Maintenance crewman.  
"Wet."  
"Nice! Did somebody get some action?'  
"No," Noonan replied, "it's just a spilled beverage."  
"Bummer. We'll be right down. Maintenance out."  
Jeffery stood by the holodeck doors as the 20 or so highest ranking officers on the ship shuffled through. Rank had its perks; being the first to use the new holodeck was one of them. He noticed that Stafford was walking down the corridor, away from the holodeck doors.  
"Hey Chris," he called, "Where ya goin'?"  
"To get another bottle of champagne, since you smashed mine all over the place!" Stafford said, annoyed.  
"But Ah thought we were…y'know….'christening' the new holodeck?"  
"Get real! That was for people to drink!" Stafford shook his head as he walked down the corridor, "Who christens a holodeck anyway?" he muttered.

Returning to the holodeck, Stafford found himself standing on a beach on a hot, sunny day. He let out a long sigh of contentment as he stopped by a picnic table to add his new bottle of champagne to the rest of the snacks and beverages. Looking out at the water he could see T'Parief riding the Andorian equivalent of a surfboard. It was pretty similar to the Terran version except with spikes on the sides and mounted on the front to better skewer any annoying swimmers that get in your way. (Stafford had made Jeffery test the holodeck safeties 4 times before allowing the holodeck to open). Ensign Yanick bobbed nearby in a tube, binoculars in one hand and a drink in the other, dark sunglasses covering her eyes.  
Stafford heard a squeal behind him, and saw in surprise than an entire waterpark had been added to the beach program. Almost two dozen waterslides led to crystal clear pools less than 300 feet from the sandy beach.  
"Awesome!" he called out, running for the stairs. He quickly got in line behind an attractive young brunette in a very conservative one-piece. It wasn't quite conservative enough to hide her firm, attractive buttocks though.  
"Hey," Stafford said with a grin, "Nice bathing suit, you look great!"  
Lieutenant Jane Fifebee turned to look at him.  
"Oh, s**t," Stafford said softly.  
"Thank you, Captain," Fifebee replied stiffly.  
"I'm sorry, Fifebee," Stafford stuttered, "I didn't know it was you!"  
"And the fact that it is me makes me less attractive?'  
"No! Of course not! It's just, we work together and all…it wouldn't be right of me to say stuff like that about you. We see each other every day!"  
"And is my company so repulsive that you cannot bear to see me any more?" Fifebee asked coolly.  
Stafford struggled to find a response until he noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her lip.  
"You're just trying to give me a hard time, aren't you," he said with a laugh.  
"Yes. And I succeeded!" Fifebee gave a surprisingly girlish giggle.  
"You're really starting to act like a real woman too!" Stafford said.  
"Indeed? Thank you."  
They had reached the front of the line and the entrance to the slide.  
"What is the appeal of this, anyway?" Fifebee asked.  
"It's fun," Stafford said, "you slide down, going through twists and turns as fast as you can, then you make a big splash at the bottom."  
"Sounds rather juvenile."  
"So? Like making fun of Jall isn't?"  
"Point taken. How does one start?"  
"Like this!" Stafford gave Fifebee an evil grin, accompanied by a good shove. The holographic officer screeched in surprise as she slid backwards down the slide and around the first turn.  
"BONZAII!" Stafford shouted and he slid down after her.

"That was NOT funny!" Fifebee objected as the two soaking wet officers walked back to the beach after several more trips down the various slides.  
"Yes, yes it was," Stafford chuckled.  
Fifebee wandered over to where Ensign Puk was working to build a sand castle. Stafford found a lounge chair and lay back to enjoy the sun. It had been a LONG time since they had been able to relax on a planet, holographic or otherwise. Their shore leave on Senous was less than relaxing. Their stop at Kuwake 3 had been for training purposes. The last time Stafford could remember relaxing off Silverado was having lunch with Captain Beck on Waystation and that had ended when her station was bombed.  
Captain Beck. Stafford smiled to himself. Beautiful red hair, perfect features and a slender body with curves in all the right places. What a woman.  
Too bad she had no interest in him.  
Stafford gave a small sigh. To his right he could see Wowryk and Jeffery walking down the beach, actually holding hands. Stafford wasn't sure what happened to Wowryk when she and Jall had been stuck in that temporal loop, but she had sure shed some of her inhibitions regarding casual contact. Prior to that, Jeffery would have been ordered to maintain a 6 inch distance at all times. At least they had made up though.  
Off to his left he could see T'Parief and Yanick. The former had abandoned his surfboard and was carrying the latter out of the water on his shoulders. Yanick giggled as she clapped her hands over his eyes. Unable to see, he promptly caught his foot on something beneath the waves and toppled over with a loud splash, causing Yanick to giggle even louder. T'Parief splashed her. She splashed him back. He pounced at her, wrestling her into the air as she laughed loudly.  
There was even a loud rustling coming from the bushes where somebody was having a really good time.  
Things on Silverado had gotten much better lately; Stafford had to admit to himself. The ship was running more or less as it should, giving Jeffery and the other engineers time to catch up on the workload of things to do, such as the holodecks. Romantic entanglements had, for the moment, become slightly less tangled as couples resolved some of their issues. Even Jall was putting more effort into his duties, even though his attitude was beyond all help in Stafford's opinion. There had been no attacks, no explosions, no weird dreams.  
So why was he so unhappy?  
It only took one glance at T'Parief and Yanick, now making out furiously on the beach, to answer that question.  
Yes, he was a Starfleet captain. Yes, he was expected to avoid fraternizing with his officers and to lead a more lonely life. Yes, some even expected him to be married to his ship. Stafford was starting to really enjoy serving on Silverado, but a ship could never take the place of a woman, even in the most demented of minds. He hated to admit it to himself but the last relationship he had been in was back on the Exeter, 7 months ago. He was officially in a rut.  
He hadn't really expected anything to come of his dinner with Captain Beck. After all, the whole point of dinner was so they could discuss the Matrian SIDs, not to get to know each other in any way. But part of him had really gotten his hopes up. They were both captains. She had a station, he had a ship assigned relatively close. She was intelligent, beautiful and strong-willed. He was…well, not bad. He hadn't had any complaints from his last girlfriend anyway. At least not until he had told her he was leaving the Exeter to take command of his own ship. That had NOT gone over well. But he had secretly been hoping that Beck would at least be interested in keeping in touch with him. Sadly, that wasn't the case.

Commander Noonan watched Stafford as he watched T'Parief and Yanick, more than a hint of envy in his eyes. Deciding that the captain probably wanted to be left alone, he continued his walk.  
Holodeck technology had been the second most celebrated technological breakthrough as far as Noonan's 'race' was concerned, the first being the psionic energy generator. The generators allowed them to feed without killing, the holodecks had allowed them to walk in the sunlight without protection, some for the first time in millennia.  
"Bridge to Holodeck 1," Noonan's musing were interrupted, "We're receiving a distress call. They say they're under attack"  
"Red alert!" Noonan ordered sharply, "All hands to battle stations, senior officers report to the bridge!"

The senior staff rushed from the turbolift to their stations in a flurry of towels and swimsuits. Stafford wrapped his towel around his shoulders before taking his command chair as Jall (who had come running from the bushes when the red alert sounded) slid into his station.  
"Report!" Stafford snapped.  
"We've received a distress call from the Senousian system," reported Lieutenant Day as he surrendered the Ops console to Jall and took over one of the auxiliary panels.  
"On screen."  
"Audio only," reported Jall as he brought up the call.  
"This is the Prefect Telfidi of the planet Senous. We are under Matrian attack! Any ships in the area, please help us in any way you can. U.S.S. Silverado, if you're listening, that means you!"  
"Nice to know they remember us," Stafford muttered.  
"-approximately 4 ships," Telfidi was saying, "We're fighting them hand to hand on the ground, but cannot hold out for long. Please, help us!"  
"Message repeats," Jall reported.  
Stafford stood and started to straighten his uniform shirt with the approved Starfleet motion, realizing at the last minute he was in his swim trunks.  
"Set a course for Senous," he ordered, "Maximum warp. Bridge to Engineering."  
"Jeffery here,"  
"I need maximum warp. Can we do it?"  
"Barely. I can give ye Warp 9.4, but only for a few minutes."  
"What about a sustainable cruising speed?'  
"Warp 9.1 for 26 hours."  
"I'll take it. And Simon, we need to be battle-ready ASAP."  
"Ah hear ye,"  
"Time to Senous?" Commander Noonan asked Yanick, his bright Hawaiian shirt fluttering slightly.  
"22 hours. As long as we don't shake apart or anything."  
"There will be a full staff meeting and ship's status report in 12 hours," Stafford said. He took his seat and immediately started reading Starfleet battle tactics.  
"Very nice command performance, sir," Noonan said quietly.  
"At least everybody was here to see it this time!" Stafford said with a slight grin.

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56400.4  
"We are responding to a distress call in the Senousian system. Yes, the same people who tried to seduce us and take over our ship. The seduction would have been more fun had there been any actual sex involved."  
"We've spent the past 12 hours doing everything we can to ensure Silverado is at the peak of combat readiness. I'm a little nervous about taking this old girl into battle on purpose, but we did promise the Senousians we'd help them if they were attacked."  
"This could be the showdown with the Matrians that I've been dreading."

"Lieutenant Jall and I are ready to adapt the warp engines to emit a subspace bubble when we drop out of warp," Lieutenant Fifebee reported, "The bubble with have to be deactivated before we can engage warp drive again."  
"And this will afford us full protection from the effects of the SIDs?" Noonan asked.  
"Yes. Assuming we do not lose power to the warp engines."  
"We'll keep 'em goin'," Jeffery promised.  
"Anything new on weapons?" Stafford asked.  
"The pulse phaser is fully operational," replied T'Parief, "Mr. Jeffery has installed energy cells that will power the weapon for 8 to 10 shots before they will need to recharge. Unfortunately, generating a subspace bubble will require a considerable amount of power and will slow the recharge rate."  
"We'll tie in auxiliary power if we have to," said Jeffery.  
"All personnel are being armed with Type 2 phasers, with the exception of security personnel, who are armed with phaser rifles," stated T'Parief.  
Stafford looked around the table. Nobody spoke.  
"I guess we're as ready as we're ever going to be," he said, "now all we can do is wait."

Stafford stood at the window in his private dining room, staring out at the stars flying by the ship. He had tried to get some sleep, knowing that he should be rested before arriving at Senous, but every time he was on the verge of falling asleep, the ship would jolt or groan as she tore through space at incredible speed. At least he wasn't living in the 23rd century, when ships at high warp would roar like wounded animals.  
There was a soft chime at the door.  
"Come in," he said.  
"Hiya, Captain," Ensign Trish Yanick said as she entered the room, "How ya doin'?"  
"I'm OK, thanks."  
"We're all having drinks down in the lounge," she went on, "nobody could sleep. The computer told me you were in here."  
"Yeah," Stafford sighed, "I guess I just didn't feel like being with other people. I usually hate this place. It's so quiet. But I guess sometimes we all need some time to ourselves."  
"So is there going to be a 'Helmsman's Private Dining Room' added to the ship's layout?" Yanick asked with a giggle.  
"There is," Stafford said dryly, "It's on deck 4, section 3, cabin 4."  
"Really?" Yanick smiled, "Sweet! I'm gonna go check that out!"  
"You do that," Stafford sighed. Yanick rushed out, just as Jeffery snuck in.  
"Where is she going in such a hurry?" he asked.  
"Her quarters," Stafford said, a glint of humour in his eye.  
"Whatcha doin' in here?" Jeffery asked, "I thought ye hated this place because it was 'stupid to make yer crew wait on you hand and foot'!"  
"It's just me. No stewards or chef or anything. I just wanted to be alone. It's not working out very well."  
"Oh. Ye want me to leave?"  
"Naw. I could use the company, actually."  
Jeffery sat at the table.  
"How's Wowryk doing?" Stafford asked.  
"She's getting sick of having security officers surrounding her everywhere she goes," Jeffery said, "And Ah think she's a little scared of facing the Matrians."  
"Who isn't?" Stafford asked, "They send us into a dream world focused around Dr. Wowryk, they board us and try to kidnap her, then they send two ships to attack us. We don't even know who they are or what they want."  
"Maybe we'll finally get some answers,"  
"I hope so. This whole situation is really pissing me off."

Prefect Telfidi paced her office, trying not to flinch at the sound of weapons fire outside. Since their attempt to capture the Starfleet ship had failed, she and her people had worked non-stop to arm themselves before the next Matrian attack could hit. Unfortunately, it takes more than a couple months to build much in the way of a space force, which is mostly why they had never been able to muster much of a defense fleet to begin with. With the Matrians obliterating their space borne defenses every few months, there were having serious problems getting ahead. The small cruiser and the dozen or so fighters they had managed to construct were now lifeless derelicts orbiting Senous.  
But on the ground was a different story.  
Every household had been armed, every citizen prepared. The majority of the males had been hidden in caves and in the rural areas of the planet, as they were always the goal of the invading Matrian forces.  
"Prefect," reported a young Army Colonel, "the Matrian forces have broken through the defense perimeter in the West Plaza. I've sent reinforcements to try to reform our defenses. So far we've been able to hold them off from invading the city core, or the Tower of Law. We've also received a response to our distress call; Silverado is on her way."  
"Excellent," Telfidi sighed in relief, "And the men?"  
"No losses yet."  
Odd. Very odd, Telfidi mused. The Matrian attack pattern had been frighteningly consistent over the past few years. Attack, wiping out any space forces, then send soldiers down to secure whichever males they wanted to take. They'd usually take over the planetary government chambers too, just to prove they could and to completely humiliate the defenders. Casualties were always very light, a fact that Telfidi was grateful for. But to be 12 hours into the invasion with not a single man taken? Either the Matrians were slipping, or something was up.  
Either way, it just might be enough for her people to hold out until Silverado arrived.

"We'll be in the Senousian system in 5 minutes," reported Ensign Yanick.  
"What are our sensors picking up?" Stafford asked.  
"I am picking up spatial disturbances consistent with an SID," reported Fifebee.  
"I have detected 7 Matrian ships so far," rumbled T'Parief, "However the SID is interfering with my tactical scanners."  
"Will that affect our targeting scanners?" asked Noonan.  
"I don't believe so."  
"All hands, this is the Captain," Stafford said over the ship-wide intercom, "we will be engaging the Matrians in less than five minutes. Just do your jobs, y'know, damage control, security and all that stuff. Be prepared to repel boarders in the event our shields fail. We have defenses against the SIDs, but if you should find yourselves in Dreamland again immediately group and ready a defense. That is all."  
"Weapons are charged, shields are ready," reported T'Parief.  
"Subspace bubble ready," reported Fifebee.  
Stafford took a deep breath.  
"Take us out of warp. Activate the subspace bubble. Let's see what they've got."

Benjamin 643 was the male lucky enough to be in charge of the expedition to Senous. He had a sort of vague understanding that he had been kidnapping men from that world for several years now, but he couldn't really bring himself to dwell on it. He was doing it by command of his Mistress and his Mistress would never order him to do anything unjust, therefore he must be behaving properly. That the Senousians might not want to become part of the Matrian Empire never even crossed his mind.  
He did know for sure that this expedition was different, and that the Senousians weren't the targets this time. In fact, his target had just arrived.

Silverado dropped out of warp on the outskirts of the Senousian system. Her nacelles immediately flared back to life as her engines generated a subspace bubble. No longer a wreck ready to fall apart at the seams, her shining hull looked solid as a rock. Her phaser banks gleamed; her torpedo tubes glittered with power. From the outside you'd never guess that inside was a crosspatch of technology, but as far as the Matrians were concerned, the big boys had come to play.  
Fortunately for them the Matrians had anticipated this. Silverado found herself facing not 6 or 7 Matrian ships, but 15.  
"Launch the mines," Benjamin ordered.

"I'm picking up 15 Matrian ships," T'Parief barked, "their shields are up, weapons are armed."  
"According to the Senousians, that's more than half of the Matrian fleet!" Fifebee said, shocked.  
"How powerful are they?" Noonan asked.  
"10 of them are the same class we've encountered. Individually they are weak, but 10 can defiantly hurt us. The other 5 are larger cruisers and are presumably more powerful."  
"Very, very bad odds," Stafford muttered.  
"They are launching what appear to be mines," snapped T'Parief.  
"Hold your horses, big guy," interrupted Jall, "I'm not picking up any sign of explosives, antimatter or quantum singularities from them."  
"I," Fifebee interrupted, "am detecting active SID devices on each of the mines,"  
"They're trying to knock us out so we'll go down easy," Noonan said coldly.  
"Nice try," Stafford said with a hard grin, "Will the bubble hold?"  
"Easily."  
"Good. Hail them, Mr. Jall."  
"On screen."  
"This is Captain Christopher Stafford of the Federation Starship Silverado. You have trapped us in a dream reality once and attacked our ship twice. I request that you explain your actions and refrain from any hostile activity against the Senousians or us. If it's communication you're after, we're listening." Stafford held his breath.  
A dark skinned man appeared on the screen. His broad shoulders, goatee and the series of knobs dotting his bald head told Stafford that this guy was probably a bruiser and that getting into a Captain vs. Captain fight would probably be a very bad idea.  
"Federation vessel," he said, his voice deep, "Our Dream Device was not an instrument of aggression. We are seeking something our Mistress desires. The Dream Device on your vessel found it. Our earlier attempts to retrieve the subject may have failed, but as you can see, we are more than ready this time! We will give you this chance to surrender the subject to us and leave, alive. Resist, and we will take what we want."  
"You're not getting her!" Stafford snapped, "I don't know how the Matrian Empire works, but in the Federation we don't sacrifice our citizens to appease bullies!"  
"Then prepare to die." The channel was cut.  
"Well," Noonan said, "I guess we've definitely proven Starfleet wrong, haven't we."  
"Oh yea," Stafford said, "These people have 'hostile intentions' crammed right up the wazoo.  
"Here they come!" barked T'Parief.  
"Ready weapons," Stafford ordered, "shoot to disable, but kill if you have to."

The 10 scouts came first, trying to take advantage of their maneuverability to englobe Silverado. T'Parief caught 3 ships off guard with phaser blasts from 3 separate phaser arrays. As the enemy vessels struggled to evade, Yanick pulled the ship though the hole in their formation and T'Parief delivered harsh phaser blasts from the rear weapons as they passed by.  
"Three ships have taken heavy damage to their shields, but remain fully functional," Jall reported.  
"Our shields are holding," T'Parief stated as a jolt shook the ship.  
"We'll be entering the minefield in 30 seconds," Fifebee reported, "subspace bubble is holding."  
"Continue to fire with aft weapons," Noonan reported, "try to stay ahead of them."  
Silverado shook again, harder this time.  
"They are concentrating their weapons fire," T'Parief reported, "Shields are at 95%!"  
Stafford was deep in thought.  
"Yanick, T'Parief," he ordered, "stop firing and taking evasive action right after we enter the minefield. Go to ¼ impulse."  
"What?" gasped Yanick.  
"Are you mad?" demanded T'Parief.  
"No. They don't know we have a defense against their SIDs. Here's what we're going to do…"

"They have stopped changing course," reported Danny 168, "weapons fire has also stopped."  
"They've been caught by the Dream Devices," Benjamin 643 said with a snort of contempt, "Bring us along side. Prepare for boarding, but stay ready."

Silverado putted along at ¼ impulse power like an elderly couple on their way to church. 5 Matrian vessels pulled along side, flanking her, while the other 5 hung behind. The Matrian vessels extended docking clamps; drawing sparks of energy as they hit Silverado's shields.  
Suddenly, the impulse engines and aft thrusters on the large ship flared to life, pushing to maximum sublight speed and causing her to zip ahead of the Matrian fleet. As the impulse engines and aft thrusters cut out, the lateral thrusters kicked in, spinning her 180 degrees like a gigantic Frisbee, flying backward now on momentum.  
Silverado's gleaming phaser cannon was now pointed directly at the bunched up Matrians, who had no idea that the cannon mounted on the underside of Silverado's saucer even worked, never mind what it did.

"Now T'Parief," barked Stafford, "Give them everything we've got!"

Phaser beams flared from emitters on the upper and lower surfaces of Silverado's saucer while photon and quantum torpedoes shot from her launchers. One ship was completely disabled, 3 others were damaged. The Matrian ships returned fire, their shots digging into Silverado's shields. Running off its new energy cells, the pulse phaser cannon fired its first fully functional bursts.  
Defiant-class ships have 4 phaser cannons. The U.S.S. Explorer, a heavily modified Galaxy-class ship, has two. Compared to those ships, Silverado's one cannon would seem pretty pathetic. But against ships without pulse phasers, it was deadly.  
2 more Matrian ships were blasted to pieces by the high-powered bolts, several more were heavily damaged by the debris from the damaged ships and the weapons fire continuing to pour from Silverado's conventional phaser banks and torpedo tubes. The remaining ships were quickly crippled or disabled, T'Parief picking off their weapons banks easily.

"The Matrian scouts have been disabled or destroyed," reported T'Parief."  
"Jeffery to bridge,"  
"Stafford here,"  
"We canna keep up this kind of power output," Jeffery reported, "We need to cut back NOW, or we're gonna have an overload!"  
"We'll see what we can do," Stafford said, closing the channel, "T'Parief?"  
"With the subspace bubble active, our power systems cannot keep up. Phaser power is weakening, shield recharge rate is down 30% and the pulse cannon will not be fully charged for another 15 minutes."  
"Well, maybe we'll be OK without it…"  
"INCOMING!" snapped Jall.  
The bridge rocked as sparks flow from the port auxiliary console, sending Ensign Burke flying across the bridge.  
"Shields down to 60%" roared T'Parief, "the five Matrian cruisers have us in weapons range!"  
"Evasive maneuvers, Trish," snapped Noonan, "Whatever pattern you damned well feel like!"  
Yanick pulled the ship around, trying to present the smallest profile possible to the attacking ships. Weapons fire flared past the ship, but for every shot that missed at least one connected.  
"Shields at 40%," called Jall.  
"I am returning fire," stated T'Parief, "Their shields are weakening, but so is my phaser power."  
"Tie in auxiliary power! Divert energy from whatever nonessential systems you can!"  
Silverado darted away from the 5 Matrian cruisers. Even damaged she'd be a match for one of them. Matrian shields weren't the greatest, neither were their weapons. But that whole 'strength in numbers' thing was really working out well for them.  
Silverado darted behind Senous' moon, not quite quick enough to evade a shot that hit her solidly on the lower engineering section, destroying a phaser array along with Ensign Shwaluk's secret marijuana farm and coming dangerously close to damaging the ship's antimatter storage pods. The five Matrians ships circled the moon, hoping to catch Silverado in crossfire, but Yanick darted between two ships that had taken some damage from the Starfleet ship's weapons and were thus a bit slow to respond. T'Parief caught each ship with solid hits from both phasers and quantum torpedoes. One ship starting drifting away, the other started spinning wildly as guidance control failed.  
The other 3 ships were quick to retaliate; energy weapons discharged from all three ships, connecting solidly with Silverado's saucer; blasting away the starboard airlock and venting the officer's mess hall into space.  
"We have hull breaches on decks 36, 11 and 12!" snapped Jall, "Emergency force fields are in place, crew is being evacuated.'  
"We have holes in the shields on the starboard saucer and ventral engineering sections," reported T'Parief, "Power is fluctuating."  
"We could really use that pulse cannon now, T'Parief!" Stafford called.  
"It will not be fully charged for another 7 minutes," the reptilian officer reported, "however, we can fire perhaps 4 shots with the current energy levels."  
"Make them count!"  
T'Parief fired a full photon torpedo spread at the trailing ship. Just before the torpedoes hit, he let loose with conventional and pulse phasers. The energy weapons, traveling at the speed of light, zipped past the torpedoes and opened holes in the enemy ship's shields. Before the holes had a chance to close, the torpedoes flew right through, hitting bare hull. The Matrian ship exploded like Canada Day fireworks, catching its neighbor in the explosion. (For you Americans, think 4th of July. I'm not sure about the U.K. and International readers. Anyway, it was a really BIG bang!)  
"Only one more to go!" Noonan said with a grin.  
The ship shook again as Matrian torpedoes found their mark. Energy weapons splashed against Silverado's port nacelle, shattering a section of nacelle grill and sending streams of plasma into space.  
"Shields are down!" T'Parief barked, claws digging into the tactical panel, "We've taken severe damage to the port nacelle! We are being boarded!"  
"Hull breach on Deck 16," reported Jall, "impulse engines are offline!"  
"Subspace bubble is fluctuating!" reported Fifebee.  
"Can we warp out of here?" asked Stafford.  
"Not a chance," snapped Fifebee.  
"Stafford to Security, tells the guys guarding Dr. Wowryk to expect company!"

Marque 314 led his boarding party through the seemingly endless corridors of the Starfleet ship. He had a small scanning device out and had located the subject. His team was encountering strong resistance from the Starfleet crewmen and he had lost several men. Fortunately, he had several dozen at his disposal.

Lieutenant Stern, Ensign Dar'ugal and several security officers were stationed around Sickbay as Dr. Wowryk barked orders.  
"Get me 10 CCs of cordrazine on the double!" she snapped, "And get Crewman Micks prepped for surgery, if we don't get that pipe out of his chest he'll never make it!"  
"Doctor," called Nurse Kerry," Ensign Burdeniuk is going into systematic shock!  
"Damn! Dr. Krenton!" she snapped at her overnight physician, "Take care of Crewman Micks, I've got Burdeniuk.  
The Sickbay doors burst open as a squad of black armored Matrians stormed in. Stern and Dar-ugal immediately brought their weapons to bear, taking out the lead Matrians, but the remaining aliens took out the security team in seconds.  
From behind the attacking squad stepped a tall, green-skinned man. He tapped at a small device, which blinked and whirred.  
"The subject is not here. Continue searching."  
They left Sickbay, the medical staff taking only seconds to look at each other in confusion before returning to their patients.

Stafford ducked as T'Parief sent a Matrian soldier flying over the tactical rail and into the port auxiliary console, reducing both the console and the soldier to ruins. Jall was firing wildly at a Matrian, trying to corner him in Stafford's ready room while another Matrian had just broke his hand trying to punch Fifebee.  
"Wowryk to Stafford,"  
"We're a little busy up here, Doc!" Stafford made a face as T'Parief's claws eviscerated another Matrian, sending the alien's entrails spilling to the floor.  
"Oh my God!" he gasped, "That's DISGUSTING!"  
"And it will be hard to get out of the carpet!" called Noonan as he causally tossed another Matrian soldier against the wall.  
"If you're finished worrying about your ship, here's something new to worry about!" Wowryk snapped.  
"What? Did they get you?"  
"I'm fine. In fact, they came right in, stunned my security guards and walked right out!"  
"What?"  
"I'm not the one they're looking for!"

The Matrian boarding parties congregated on Deck 29. Their target? Main Engineering.  
Security teams and crewmen fought the alien invaders, hiding behind corners and even flinging the occasional photon grenade. The grenades did as much damage to the ship as they did to the aliens, a fact that was driven home when a power conduit ruptured, not only killing several Matrians but seriously wounding 3 Silverado crewmen.  
Benjamin 643 led his troops through the entrance to engineering, the last defenders being picked off as more reinforcements were beamed over from his cruiser. He pulled out his scanning device again, which quickly locked onto the subject.  
The young man was shorter than Benjamin had been expecting. He wasn't particularly handsome, although he admitted that he was a much better judge of female beauty than of male looks. The man's reddish hair was cut short, and he backed away uneasily as Benjamin walked towards him.  
"W-Who are ye?"  
"I am Benjamin 642, Commander of the Matrian vessel Avon in the service of our Mistress Larette. What is your name please, sir?"  
"Me name?" Jeffery was a bit stunned. After stunning or killing God knew how many of his crewmates, this invader was treating him like an honored guest!  
"I'm Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffery, Chief Engineer."  
"It is an honor to meet you," Benjamin said, bowing his head, "Please, come with me."  
"Uh, why?" Jeffery asked slowly.  
"You have been selected, of all the men known to the Matrian Empire, to be brought before our Mistress and to be deemed worthy of her companionship!"  
"Right," Jeffery said slowly. Companionship? Mistress? This really sounded bad. A groan from near the Master Systems display drew his attention.  
"What about my crewmates?" he asked.  
"They were offered the chance to leave peacefully. They refused. They will be destroyed."  
"NO!" snapped Jeffery, "Ah put too much work into this ship to let you blow her to pieces! And the people on it are my friends!" he added quickly.  
Benjamin considered this.  
"If you agree to come with us, I will spare this vessel."  
Jeffery bit his lip. What was he agreeing to? Did he have a choice?'  
"Fine."

"Captain, the Matrians are beaming back to their ship," T'Parief reported. Stafford watched as the stunned and dead Matrians dematerialized.  
"How very astute," he snapped. T'Parief simply glared at him.  
"They must have found who they were looking for," Noonan said softly.  
"The Matrian ship has gone to warp, heading for Matrian space," Fifebee reported, "The ships we damaged are likewise making their way out of the system, although somewhat more slowly."  
"Engineering to Bridge,"  
"Stafford here. What's the situation down here, Simon?"  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Sir, this is Lieutenant Sage. Um,"  
"What?"  
"Commander Jeffery has been taken by the Matrians."  
"What the f**k?"

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56404.5  
"We've engaged and have been defeated by the Matrians. Yay us. Yup, we sure did get our asses kicked."  
"Actually, no. We gave them one hell of a butt-kicking, but they still got us in the end. Our Chief Engineer has been kidnapped by the Matrians."  
"Now what?"

"Now what?" Stafford repeated the question to his senior staff. Sage was once again filling in for Jeffery.  
"I think it's clear that we must retrieve Jeffery," T'Parief grumbled.  
"Well, aren't you on a winning streak today, Captain Obvious," said Jall with a slight chuckle.  
"Watch it, little man," T'Parief growled.  
"What kind of shape are we in?" Noonan asked.  
"Shields are recharged and back up to 100% for the most part," reported Sage, "But they're going to be a little weak over the hull breaches on decks 11, 12, 16 and 36 until we get those areas repaired. The ventral phaser array on the engineering section is gone, we've got some ruptured EPS conduits and minor hull damage scattered over the whole ship. Impulse engines will be back up in 8 hours. Warp core is fine, but we're not getting anything better than Warp 3 until we get the port nacelle repaired."  
"We have destroyed the last of the SID mines," reported Fifebee, "and I have begun studying some of the SIDs captured from the Matrian ships. There are some subtle differences between those devices and the one planted on Silverado."  
"What are our options?" Stafford asked.  
"I think another fire-fight would be a BAD idea," interjected Jall, "we took a pretty hard beating."  
"I agree," said Sage, "we should cut our losses, make our repairs, and make me the new Chief Engineer."  
"Don't hold your breath," snapped Stafford.  
"It would take us 2 days to reach the Matrian system," Yanick said, "I dunno about you, but I don't think they've been very nice! We need to teach them a lesson."  
"The Senousians did build a couple ships," Noonan added, "They've been disabled, but we could possibly repair them well enough to offer us some assistance."  
"It they're willing to help us," muttered Stafford.  
"Captain," Fifebee interrupted, her voice cautious, "I have a suggestion."  
"Well don't keep us in suspense!"  
"We already know that one function of the SIDs is to bring the user into a computer generated dream world, but I think there is another function as well,"  
"Go on,"  
"We've encountered races before that use technology to influence the minds of people being enslaved by that race. The Borg and the Collectors come to mind. The Matrian SIDs have a similar effect. They augment a male's natural protective instincts, reduce their capacity for creative thinking and influence their perceptions of their masters. This could also explain the increase in sexual activity experience by some of the crew while under the influence of the malfunctioning SID that did such of a lovely job of disrupting my program!"  
T'Parief looked slightly embarrassed.  
"We've experienced the effects a malfunctioning SID can have on our own personalities," Fifebee continued, "but we must keep in mind that the intended effects are more specific."  
"Right," Jall said, "And this helps us how?"  
"The Collector's technology is strictly one way. The Borg completely wipe a person's personality, allowing them to function as part of the whole. The Matrian devices allow a user to retain their personality, although sometimes in an altered form, but also allow full two-way communication with the technology. I believe that the Matrian SIDs are linked to a central network, similar in function to the relationship between a Borg vinculum and the hive mind."  
"You're saying these people are like the Borg?"  
"Hardly. The Borg use complete merging of consciousness. This is more like mental networking."  
"So how do we use this to our advantage?" Noonan asked.  
"We have access to several SID devices. We should be able to use these devices to gain access to the Matrian network."  
"Whoa!" Stafford gasped," Last time we used one of these things, we nearly died! We don't even know that there is some central network to link to! The Matrian soldiers certainly weren't linked to some dream reality."  
"Not presently. But we already know the devices can be very selective about who is and is not linked to their dream reality. I was able to reconnect crewmen easily during our battle against the Sisters of the Realm," Fifebee pointed out.  
"Most likely," Wowryk joined in, "the SIDs are primarily used as a method of controlling the soldiers, altering their personalities and so forth, but can be used to draw them into the artificial reality should their Mistress wish to communicate. I suspect that on the Matrian homeworld use of the artificial reality is much more prevalent than on the ships."  
"How did you come to this conclusion?" asked Fifebee.  
"It's how I would do it," Wowryk said softly.  
"I think," Noonan added, "that we've already established that these aliens and Dr. Wowryk think alike in many ways."  
"What's to stop them from taking control of us as soon as we enter the dream reality?" T'Parief asked.  
"I can disable that function of the device," said Fifebee, "but they would still have us at a considerable disadvantage. We've seen the devastating force a person in full control of the dream reality can wield. I would not suggest taking death lightly either, there is no guarantee that in this case it would be anything but permanent."  
"What I don't get," Yanick said, "Is why that stupid thing got all linky with Noel in the first place. Remember? Fifebee said the device had established a link with Dr. Wowryk when we were all trapped in her dream world! I mean, we all thought that it was because she was the one the aliens wanted. But they wanted Simon. Why link with Noel?"  
"I would surmise," Noonan said, "that the device's connection to Dr. Wowryk was not intended. Judging from the amount of control the link afforded her over the dream reality, I would guess that it identified her as a Mistress and responded accordingly. We could very much use this to our advantage, should Dr. Wowryk be able to interface with the device again."  
Stafford, Fifebee and T'Parief exchanged glances.  
"What you're saying," Stafford said cautiously, "is that we need Queen Wowryk back?"  
"I don't like that idea!" Wowryk said firmly.  
"Me neither!" Stafford seconded.  
"Consider," Noonan said, "Not only will the good doctor know what to expect this time, but with the personality-altering aspects of the device repressed she should retain her own, shall we say, 'special' personality."  
"To what end?" Stafford asked, "To try to slay all the Matrians? Sounds pretty harsh to me!"  
"Of course not. We just want to get Jeffery back."  
Stafford stood and started pacing.  
"I need some time to make a decision," he finally said, "continue repairs."  
The senior staff stood to leave.  
"Noel, please stay behind for a moment."  
Wowryk sat while Stafford continued to pace.  
"You and the Matrians have a lot in common," he said finally.  
"I thought," Wowryk said coldly, "that we had agreed that my behavior during the 'Queen Wowryk' incident had been influenced by the SID."  
"We did," Stafford said quickly, "but look at the pattern. You find men to be distasteful. They've downright enslaved them. You have a thing for Simon Jeffery. They have a thing for Simon Jeffery. That device created a neural link with you for a reason, and as unpleasant as it might be to think about, it's now something we can use to our advantage!"  
"Are you ordering me to subject myself to this…experiment?" Wowryk asked sharply, "Because that's what it is! We don't know enough about their technology to know for sure what will happen!"  
"Don't you want to get Simon back?"  
"Of course I do! Let's call in the fleet! Get some heavy guns out here to blast those bitches to dust!"  
"That sounds like a 'primitive, savage, MALE' solution to me," Stafford said with a chuckle.  
"They're asking for it!"  
"Any ships we call for would take close to a month to get here, even at high warp. Think of what could happen to Simon in the meantime."  
Wowryk stood by the window.  
"A year ago," she said, "if anybody had told me I would fall in love with a man, I would have found it hard to believe. You're all disgusting, smelling, grunting, savage-"  
"I get the picture," Stafford said flatly.  
"But I am falling for Simon," she admitted, "even if he does have sick thoughts about me constantly. And even though he really does stink after working on those engines all day. He can be kind, and sweet. He works hard to please me."  
"He's whipped."  
"Maybe," Wowryk admitted, "I guess I don't feel threatened by him. Especially now. He beat himself up so much after I got hurt I just feel that could never bring himself to hurt me again."  
"He's a nice guy," Stafford said.  
"We've got to get him back," Wowryk said, tears showing in her eyes.  
"Even it means becoming Queen Wowryk again? On purpose?"  
Wowryk was silent for a moment.  
"Yes," she finally said.  
"Just do me a favor, OK?" Stafford asked.  
"What?"  
"It's not the 'Sisters of the Realm' this time. No 'men vs. women'. This time, we work as a team. We're going in as the officers and crew of the Federation Starship Silverado and we're going to kick some Matrian ass!"

Stafford stepped out of the conference room, acknowledging the expectant stares he was receiving from his bridge crew.  
"Well?" Jall asked.  
"We're going in," Stafford said, "Yanick, prepare to take us toward Matrian space. We're going to need to be close in case we need to make a quick rescue. T'Parief, get the long-range scanners going; find us a place to settle in. Preferably something discreet. Fifebee, I want you working with Jall to get the SID running. Remove any kind of personality altering functions you can. Mr. Noonan, come with me."  
The bridge crew jumped into action as Stafford and Noonan stepped into the turbolift.  
"Shuttlebay 1," Noonan ordered.  
"I guess you already know what I want," Stafford said with a grin.  
"I'll be taking the Asessippi to Senous where I am to assist them in repairing what vessels we can."  
"Right. We're going to get into their little fantasy world and create a distraction. You're going to take the Asessippi, the shuttles and whatever Senousian ships you can get and make the actual rescue attempt. Now, from what the Senousians told us before we just took out a very substantial chunk of the Matrian fleet. Hopefully, that means you'll be able to slip through any of their patrols."  
"I understand. I'll take Menzies, Pysternzykz and Glenn with me to pilot our shuttles."  
"Good call. Don't take any of the smaller shuttles though, they won't get you back to Senous if there's a problem."  
"Understood."  
The stepped out of the turbolift.  
"Look, Commander," Stafford said, "I want you to know that it's been great working with you,"  
"And with you," Noonan replied.  
"But I gotta ask; what are you?"  
"What am I?"  
"Yeah. You act strange, you never eat and you wear more sunscreen then anybody I know. What are you?" Stafford waited expectantly.  
"Pieces on the cusp of Aquarius," Noonan smiled as Stafford gave him an annoyed look, "Good luck, Captain."

Yanick had followed T'Parief down to the torpedo bay. The hulking tactical officer wanted to check over the weapon systems before Silverado left for Matrian space.  
"Whatcha thinking?" she asked.  
"I am concerned that we may have used too many of our quantum torpedoes during the battle," he said, "and I wish to check the status of the launchers."  
"I mean about going after Jeffery."  
"We cannot allow Federations citizens to be abducted," T'Parief answered simply.  
"And that's it? We could die! We could be enslaved! Who knows what might happen to us!"  
"That could be happening to Mr. Jeffery,"  
"I know," Trish said sadly, "but, oh, I can't believe I'm saying this, but there's only one of him, and 800 of us!"  
"Do you think we should just leave him there?"  
"Of course not! But going in with the whole ship is crazy!"  
"I don't think the Captain is going to take the Silverado to Matria," T'Parief said, "Tactically, it would be foolish. He'll probably send a smaller strike force in."  
"Then why are we going?"  
"We're either the backup, or the distraction."  
"Oh," Yanick was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "Can I have a hug?"  
"Anytime,"

"Commander Noonan's runabout has departed," Jall reported, "oh, and there was a message from the Senousian Prefect an hour or so ago, thanking us for chasing the Matrians out of the system."  
"Geez," Stafford said, "I forgot all about them. Ah well, Noonan can handle it. Set course for Matrian space, Warp 3."  
"Aye sir," replied the helm officer.  
"I also have a memo for you.," Jall continued, "Ms. Lydia Thompson would like you to report to her office to discuss current events."  
"Oh she would, would she?" Stafford growled, "Stafford to Thompson!"  
"You've reached the office of Ms. Lydia Thompson, Human Resources, how may I help you?"  
"This is the Captain-"  
"Excellent! Ms. Thompson is expecting you at 15:30h. Please be prompt. Dress today is standard Starfleet-"  
"Tell Ms. Thompson that if she wants to talk to me, she can report to my ready room!"  
"I'm sorry, but Ms. Thompson's time is valuable, all meetings are to be held in her office."  
"LISTEN TO ME YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Stafford snapped, "I am Captain of this ship! MY time is valuable, and if Ms. Thompson wants to see me so badly she can damned well come up here! Stafford out!"  
There was silence on the bridge as more than one officer fought to hide a grin.  
"I see that spine is growing in nicely!" Jall chuckled.  
"Shut up!"

Noel Wowryk walked the corridors of the ship, barely acknowledging greetings from various crewmembers. She felt the ship shift into warp drive with a lurch. The battle had definitely been rough on the poor girl. But Jeffery would patch her up again, assuming they got him back.  
Noel still had few memories of her time as Queen Wowryk. The incident had been months ago. She remembered the way the crew had felt about her after the dust had cleared, though. There had been Jall's smart-ass remarks, Stafford's subtle little cutting jabs and the general cold shoulder from the rest of the crew. She knew intellectually that this time would be different. She would be in control of herself, not an insane dictator. Still…  
Finding herself at the office of Counselor Eva Yvonnokoff, Wowryk rang the chime then stepped in.  
Eva was sprawled out on her chair, snoring loudly.  
"I guess she must not get much business," Wowryk muttered to herself.  
With a groan, Eva woke.  
"Yes? Vhat is it?" she murmured.  
"I, um, just wanted to talk about how the current situation is developing."  
"Current situation?"  
"Y'know, the battle, the Matrians. The whole Sisters of the Realm thing."  
"Huh?" Yvonnokoff was confused.  
"Just how long have you been napping?" Wowryk demanded.  
"I do not know. There vas a lot of shaking, but I slept through most of it. I must admit, I haff been VERY bored lately."  
"Right. Never mind then," Wowryk walked out.  
"My first client in two weeks, and I blew it," Eva sighed to herself, "Zis just isn't working."

Commander Noonan landed the runabout Asessippi on the east lawn of the Senousian government complex. Telfidi rushed right up to great him. He noticed the complete lack of pheromones coming from her body with no small amount of relief. That the Senousians had taken them for allies was a positive development.  
"Commander Noonan," Telfidi said, "Thank you very much for your assistance. Thanks to you, we didn't loose a single man."  
"I'm pleased to hear it," Noonan said.  
"We're already working on getting our defenses re-established," Lashette piped in, "If they're licking their wounds long enough, we can actually get a sizable space force up."  
"That's actually what I am here to talk to you about," Noonan said, "Captain Stafford and the crew are planning to infiltrate the Matrians in an attempt to recover a member of our crew who has been kidnapped. We plan to use one of their spatial interphase devices to get into their artificial reality."  
Lashette and Telfidi exchanged glances.  
"You mean you're trying to get into Dreamland?" Lashette asked.  
"Dreamland? It's actually called that?"  
"The Senousians who escaped the Matrians described a different reality," Telfidi said, "Where the Matrians were all-powerful. They'd be pulled into this other plane, given instructions or punishments then sent back to their ships."  
"This was not in the information you sent us regarding the Matrians," Noonan said coolly.  
"We found their reports to be unreliable at best," Telfidi said, flipping her hair, "but from what you've just told us, they were correct."  
"In any event," Noonan continued, "We will be attempting to sneak onto the Matrian homeworld in an effort to rescue our officer. We will of course free any Senousians we can."  
"Where do we fit in?"  
"We want to help you to repair some of the derelict ships in orbit of your world. We've detected a small cruiser that can be repaired. So can one of the Matrian vessels."  
"We must consult with our council," Telfidi said firmly. "Please wait here."  
"Time is of the essence!" Noonan called as Telfidi and Lashette walked away.

Be-DEEP!  
"Come," Stafford said.  
Lydia Thompson stalked in.  
"I am not accustomed to being kept waiting, Captain," she said coldly.  
"Then I guess you're not accustomed to life on a starship," Stafford, matching her tone, "You see, out here, crewmembers obey the Captain's orders. Whether they are Starfleet officers, civilians or the visiting dignitary's dog! YOU are working for ME. Now what do you want?"  
"When we return to Federation space," Lydia said coolly, "I shall be having a long discussion with the Secretary of H.R. regarding your attitude."  
"Uh-huh. Are you here to do something other than threaten me?"  
"You decision to take this ship after a single crewman is not in the Federation's best interests."  
"So?"  
"I can cite several precedents that would support our immediate return to Federations space," Thompson produced a padd, which she placed on Stafford's desk. Stafford pointedly ignored it.  
"Are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Ms. Thompson?"  
"Somebody has to. This is insane! The man in question is one step above being a common criminal, and we're risking 800 men, women and children to save him!"  
Stafford stared coldly at Thompson for several seconds.  
"Get out." He said finally.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Get out. Leave. Go back to your office and file something H.R. related, because you obviously have no f**king idea of how things work on a starship!"  
"This is not over," Thompson walked to the door. Stafford spoke up right before she reached it.  
"You're right. As soon as we return to Waystation, I'm kicking you off my ship. Then this will be over. Have a nice day!"

The Senousian deliberations, as it turned out, were swift.  
"You have our full support," Telfidi said with a smile, "As you recall, this was sort of our plan from the beginning; take the fight to them!"  
"We have our own rules and policies we had to follow," Noonan pointed out.  
"Yes. But the results are the same."  
"Not always. Very often, problems can be resolved peacefully. They still may."  
"We will be providing technicians and engineers," Lashette said, "We simply ask your assistance in transporting our people onto the two ships in question and in replicating replacement parts."  
"We can do that,"  
"Our estimation is that it will take 24 hours to get the ships warp capable, and another 24 hours to get them battle ready."  
"The trip to Matria is 2 days. Once we can use warp drive we can finish the remaining repairs on the way."  
"Excellent," Telfidi smiled. Her smile faded slightly as she leaned in.  
"You do realize," she said softly, "that our cruiser doesn't have much greater firepower than your runabout,"  
"Every little bit helps."

The next two days passed with relative speed for both groups. Silverado limped closer and closer to Matrian territory. Fortunately, with the small size of the Matrian Empire, Matria itself was only a few hours away from the boarder. By making careful use of long-range sensors, Fifebee, T'Parief and Yanick were able to work together to sneak Silverado behind a small planetoid near the boundary of Matrian space, undetected.  
Meanwhile, Noonan and his team managed to assist the Senousians in getting not only their own small cruiser up and running but also a Matrian vessel that had been disabled during the fight. Neither ship was in top shape but once warp power was restored, the small fleet consisting of two small starships, a runabout and three shuttles started the trip to Matria.

"Status?" Pysternzykz hissed to the Senousian engineer, a young man by the name of Helthin.  
"Shields are at 50%. We have one energy beam online and 4 torpedoes with antimatter warheads."  
"Pathetic. A Pakled freighter could defeat this ship!"  
"You've got a real attitude problem, y'know that?"  
"Gentlemen," Noonan interrupted, "please remain civil." Noonan had been playing referee between the Andorian officer and the Senousian male for the past day.  
"Now then," he continued, "our plan is this; we'll sneak the Asessippi into Matrian space and attempt to track the vessel that took Jeffery. The remaining ships will cover Silverado while the Captain makes his infiltration attempt."  
"We understand," said Lashette, "One way or another, we will succeed."

Stafford, Wowryk and Fifebee were gathered in Science Lab 1, the Matrian SID sitting in the center of the room.  
"I'm adjusted the device output," Fifebee reported, "The field will encompass the saucer section, but should not extend to the engineering section."  
"Excellent. Sage and Stern will be down there. We've diverted bridge control to engineering."  
"Are we sure this is such a good idea?" Wowryk asked nervously.  
"Do you have a better one?" Stafford asked.  
"We wait for Noonan."  
"We don't know what's happening to Jeffery. Noonan will be here soon enough, he's only a day behind."  
He turned to Fifebee.  
"Activate the device."  
All over the saucer, the 300 or so crewmen who had volunteered for the mission had lay down in their beds. Each let out a relaxed breath, closed their eyes and fell asleep the instant Fifebee hit the button.

Dreamland

Stafford opened his eyes and found himself in a featureless, white space. Nobody else was around.  
"Hello?" he called out. His voice was completely absorbed by the white void; there was no echo at all.  
"Well, this isn't what I expected, " he mused. He sat down on his chair, trying to think of what to do."  
Obviously, he needed to find his crew. Fine. He was in the artificial reality, so he needed to really focus on what he wanted. He leaned on his desk, rubbing his temples with his hands.  
All right. He needed Dr. Wowryk first. Great.  
He suddenly became aware that he was sitting on a chair and leaning against a desk that hadn't been there 5 minutes before. In fact, the white space had been replaced with his ready room without him noticing a thing.  
"Neat trick!" he said. Ok, now to get the doctor.  
Dr. Wowryk….Dr. Wowryk Stafford concentrated.  
Be-DEEP!  
"Come in,"  
"That was weird," commented Wowryk.  
"Tell me about it. Seen anybody else?"  
"No."  
"Are you, y'know…all-powerful now?"  
"I don't think so,"  
"Well, try doing something." Stafford suggested.  
"Like what?"  
"Well, how about getting me a cup of coffee?"  
Wowryk gave Stafford an annoyed look.  
"Don't you think," she said, "that I could do something a bit more impressive then getting you a drink?"  
"Cappuccino?"  
"Oh fine!" Wowryk closed her eyes and concentrated. After several seconds, a steaming cup of cappuccino appeared on Stafford's desk.  
"There," Wowryk said.  
"That's not right," said Stafford with a frown, "Queen Wowryk could conjure up 50 soldiers with less effort than that!"  
"Well what do you want me to do? I don't remember being her!"  
Stafford stood and paced for a few seconds.  
"Do you remember how you became Queen Wowryk before?" he asked finally.  
Wowryk looked at him and tried to recall what had happened."  
"I was standing in the room, those disgusting Possessed creatures were attacking," she said, "I was facing you like this," she moved towards Stafford, "I had just killed a creature that was attacking you. Then one of the others grabbed me from behind. I was wrestling it. And then...and then…"  
"You screamed," Stafford jumped in, "you prayed for power, and strength and stuff. Then everything went crazy.  
Wowryk looked at him.  
"Oh Lord," she said, head bowed, "grant me the will, the power and the strength I need to do your will."  
Nothing happened.  
"I don't think that's good enough," Stafford said, "You have to really want it. Concentrate!"  
Wowryk leaned on the desk, eyes screwed shut. She thought about what she could remember of her time as Queen. The power. The women ready to die at her command. That she didn't want. But the power…the strength.  
"Oh Lord," she cried out, "Grant me the will, the power and the STRENGTH I NEED TO DO YOUR WILL!"  
Stafford ducked behind his desk as an all-too-well remembered surge of blue energy surged from Wowryk, bursting from her fingertips, her eyes, her chest, until her entire form was awash in brilliant light. With a loud flash, a pulse of blue power shot out from Noel, transforming the landscape from a ready room into the familiar Inner Courtyard of Castle Wowryk.  
"AH-HA-HA-HA!" laughed Wowryk in triumph as her power grew. Vast trees sprouted from the ground outside the castle as storm clouds gathered and lightening flashed.  
"Noel!" Stafford called. She turned to look at him.  
"The power!" she cried, her face one of beatific joy, "The absolute power!"  
There was a subtle shift, almost a rippling, and Wowryk's expression changed to one of pain as she dropped to her knees, giving a cry of agony.  
"Noel!" Stafford shouted, concerned. He rushed over to her side.  
"It's too many!" she cried out, "Too many!"  
"Snap out of it!" he shook her roughly. She clutched her head, ignoring him.  
Unsure of what to do, he slapped her across the face, trying to bring her to her senses. He was completely unprepared for the hard uppercut that struck his lower jaw.  
"Just hold on!" Wowryk snapped.  
"Just trying to help," Stafford muttered.  
"It's better," she gasped, "it's just too many! Too many people! Too many minds!"  
"The Matrians?'  
"No! Just us!"  
"Didn't realize we were so hard to handle."  
"You try sensing 300 minds and see how well YOU cope!" she snapped.  
"Are you better now?" he asked.  
"Yes. I am recovering." She regained her regal stance. As she straightened, a long flowing gown complete with cape and shoes materialized over her body. Not the blinding white favored by Queen Wowryk, but a mix of soft white and Starfleet blue.  
"Are you…Noel Wowryk?" Stafford asked.  
"Yeah. I'm still me this time," she said, "And if you ever picture me in that sexual position again, I will kill you."  
"Maybe having you semi-omnipotent wasn't such a good idea. Where are our people?"  
"Here. The reality was fragmented without a controlling entity. Now that I've assumed that role, I shall bring them here."  
"You're talking funny," Stafford said, "you know that, right?'  
Wowryk gave a wave of her hand. Instantly, Silverado personnel filled the Inner Couryard. Men and women, still on the same team.  
"Fifebee!" Stafford said happily, noticing his Science Officer in the crowd, "I'm glad to see you!" He did a double take. "No I'm not, actually. What are you doing here? I thought you were normally immune to these things!"  
"I know," she said, worry evident in her voice, "I'm not sure what went wrong."  
"Well, we could use your help," Stafford said, "I mean, if we really need to send you back, I'm sure Noel could do it, but-"  
"Captain," Fifebee cut him off, a sort of insistent panic in her voice, "there's something else you need to know!"  
Only then did Stafford notice the middle-aged woman standing behind Fifebee. A disturbingly familiar woman…  
"Oh my God," he gasped.  
"Captain Stafford," Fifebee said with a sigh, "allow me to introduce the Federation Starship Silverado."  
The woman resembling Catherine Stafford threw her arms around the captain.  
"Please," she said, "Call me Mom!"

To be continued!

Stafford, Wowryk and an unexpected ally work to infiltrate the Matrian Dreamland while Noonan and the Senousians try to infiltrate the Matrian planet. What's going to happen next? Find out next time in the exciting season finale of Star Traks, Silverado!


	16. 16 - Catfight - Part Two

Star Traks: Silverado

1.16 Catfight - Part 2

Voice of Lieutenant Stern  
"Um, you want me to do a voice-over? I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, I'm a pretty minor character here, usually only the big stars get to do the voiceovers. Oh, you're right. They're either unconscious or on their way to Matria. Good point. So, do I get a pay raise for doing this?"  
Lieutenant Stern suddenly found himself hanging from chains in the dungeon of Ming the Merciless as poisonous snakes slithered towards his helpless form.  
"Wait! Wait! I take it back! I don't need a pay raise! I'm happy with things as they are! I'll do the voice-over too, anything you say!"  
And Lieutenant Stern found himself back on Silverado, sitting in Main Engineering, the snakes nothing but a bad memory.  
"Oh, thank God! Um, the voice-over. Right."  
"Last time on Star Traks: Silverado, the crew received a distress call from their old friends, the ever sexy, ever bang-able drop-dead gorgeous Senousians. Rushing to their defense they found an entire fleet of Matrian ships waiting for them. Silverado managed to fight off most of the enemy ships before being boarded. Contrary to what Stafford and his crew believed, the Matrians were not after Dr. Wowryk. Instead they kidnapped Lt. Cmdr. Simon Jeffery and took him to the Matrian homeworld."  
"While Noonan leads a combined force of Senousians and Starfleet officers on a rescue mission, Captain Stafford, Dr. Wowryk and even the Silverado herself work to infiltrate the Matrian Dreamland, a virtual reality maintained by the Matrian Spatial Interphase Devices."

Reality:

Silverado hung in space, hiding in the shadow of a small planetoid near the boundary of Matrian space. Her nacelles were dark, except for tiny sparks as repair crews worked to repair the damage caused by the Matrian cruisers. One nacelle was missing a section of its warp plasma grill; the other showed blackened sections of hull where the Matrian weapons had started to penetrate the ship's failing shields. The engineering section was relatively undamaged, except for the lower surface. Here a phaser array had been completely destroyed and the hull had been breached. Another repair team was working to shore up the damaged hull sections. The saucer section had easily taken the worst beating; a large chunk was missing from the outer rim of the saucer where the starboard airlock assembly and about half of the officer's mess hall had been blasted away, as though some giant had taken a large bite out of the ship. A series of blackened hull plates gave testimony to the number of shots that had started to force their way through the ship's shields.  
No repair crews scurried over the damaged saucer however; any who had tried would have found themselves unconscious in seconds. In Science Lab One a Matrian Spatial Interphase Device had been activated, generating a bubble around the saucer that forced any humanoid life-forms within it into the artificial dream reality created by the Matrians.  
Lieutenants Stern and Sage worked feverishly in Main Engineering, coordinating repair teams, scanning for enemy vessels and hoping that Commander Noonan would show up with reinforcements soon. They were somewhat hampered by the fact that the ship's normally vocal computer had gone into the cybernetic equivalent of a coma. Ensign Burke was tapping at a side console, trying to figure out what was wrong with it.  
"Wasn't Fifebee supposed to check in with us by now?" asked Stern. Jane Fifebee, being the ship's only holographic officer, should have been immune to the effects of the SID and was to act as the link between the now off-limits saucer and the crewmembers still in the engineering section.  
"Hold on," Sage said. He started tapping at his panel, trying to use the computer backups in the engineering section to get some information from the now-comatose main computer core in the saucer. "Her program is running, but the holo-relay interface is offline. Her program is showing tons of activity but the signals don't really seem to be going anywhere."  
"Isn't that the problem we're having with the main computer core?" Stern asked Burke.  
"Yeah," Burke replied, "It's like somebody who's fallen asleep; all the automatic functions are working fine but we can't get it to respond to us."  
"So you're saying our computer is sleeping?" Stern asked.  
"Well, it was only an analogy-" Burke started.  
"And maybe dreaming?" Stern interrupted. Burke paused, thinking of the strange problems they had been having with the computer's personality profile and bio-neural gel-packs for the past several months.  
"Oh shit," he muttered.

Dreamland:

"This is not good," Stafford groaned to himself as he paced the courtyard of Castle Wowryk, "this is really not good!"  
"You always were such a worry-wart," sighed the ship's computer, placing her hands on her hips. She/it was wearing the body of Catherine Stafford, the captain's mother. A middle-aged woman with relatively short blond hair and an air of good cheer, she wasn't a very threatening presence. Still, Stafford glared at her/it and turned back to Fifebee.  
"How the hell did this happen?' he demanded.  
"I suspect that our previous encounter with the damaged Matrian SID has left the computer's bioneural gel-packs susceptible to the SID's influence," Fifebee said.  
"Yes, thank you for the techno babble," Stafford growled, "That explains why YOU are here. But what about her? She's a computer! She's not supposed to think she's my mother, she's not supposed to talk to us unless we tell her to, and she sure as hell should NOT be in here walking and talking!"  
"Captain," Fifebee sighed, "face the facts. The computer was programmed with the personality of your mother. Due to the fact that our computer software was not equipped with the proper safeguards needed to safely use bio-neural circuitry, that profile wound up running on a chunk of brain cells. That alone was enough to bring her to the very cusp of self-awareness, as we have seen demonstrated on several occasions. The SID's influence pushed her right over the edge!"  
"In other words," Lieutenant Jall piped in "Congratulations! You now have the Federation's first sentient starship!"  
"Whoop de-f**king-doo!" muttered Yanick.  
Stafford glared at Jall, clenching his fists.  
"You wanna see how death works in THIS reality, asshole?" he demanded.  
"Gentlemen," Wowryk broke in, "I will have none of that behavior! We are here to locate my beloved Simon, not to bicker over petty technological matters!"  
Stafford took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  
"You're right," he turned to Fifebee, "We'll deal with this later. I remember a report that stated that the Enterprise-D had started to gain self-awareness, but they were able to stop it Maybe we can use that."  
"That was due to an alien entity and had nothing to do with the ship's computer," Fifebee stated, "I doubt it will help us. Also, there are ethical questions as to whether or not we should interfere."  
"We'll talk about it later," Stafford seethed, seeing an angry expression starting to form on Wowryk's face.  
"Well," the computer said, "I for one am glad to be up and about! It's very nice to be traveling among the stars, but it can be very boring sometimes."  
Stafford rolled his eyes while Wowryk turned to address the computer.  
"Have you decided on a name for yourself, yet?' she asked, "Silverado really isn't much of a name for a lady,"  
"NO!" Stafford exploded, "You don't name it! Once you name it, you start getting attached to it!"  
"I'll have to think about it," replied the computer, "And just ignore Chris, he sometimes gets cranky when things don't go his way."  
"Can we move on from this topic, PLEASE?" grumbled T'Parief.  
"Yes, let's," said Stafford. He turned to Wowryk, "We need to let somebody on the outside that everything is going according to plan. Mostly. Can you release somebody long enough for them to tell Stern what's happening?"  
"Easily," Noel said with a smile, "Who shall I send?"  
Stafford started to point to the computer but Fifebee spoke up before he could voice his opinion.  
"I will go. I can quickly project myself to engineering, inform them of the situation and then return."  
"Fine," Stafford said.  
Wowryk gave a quick flick of her hand. Fifebee vanished as she was sent back to the real world.

Reality:

Commander Noonan sat in the cockpit of the runabout Asessipi as his small fleet approached Silverado. To either side of the runabout flew Silverado's three Type-9 shuttles; the Camero, the Charger and the Avalanche. The Senousian cruiser Klitor flew along side a captured Matrian scout ship, which Ensign Menzies had dubbed the P.O.S. Broomstick. The runabout and the shuttles were still in perfect shape, but the two larger ships had battle damage on several sections of their hulls. The hasty repairs made back at Senous had held the ships together so far, but Noonan wasn't willing to trust that they would keep holding for long unless the Senousian crews had a chance to finish more repairs.  
Fortunately, that was the plan. The shuttles had served their purpose in supporting Noonan as he, Pysternzykz, Menzies and Glenn helped the Matrians get the two ships ready to fly and had escorted them to Silverado's hiding place. Now they would help the two larger ships guard Silverado while the captain infiltrated Dreamland. Stafford and Wowryk would try to find Jeffery and free him from the fake reality while Noonan himself would be trying to sneak onto Matria Prime in an attempt to rescue Jeffery's physical form.  
"Silverado to Asessippi," came the voice of Lieutenant Stern.  
"Noonan here," he replied.  
"I'm sure glad to see you! The Captain's already gone in. Lieutenant Fifebee just came back to give us a report. You might wanna come talk to her."  
"Back? She left?"  
"I guess."

Noonan beamed over to Silverado, leaving Asessippi sitting nearby. The other ships had taken up protective flanking positions around Silverado. Lieutenant Fifebee quickly relayed recent events to Noonan and the other officers. Noonan was fascinated by the computer's new state; Burke was just relieved to finally know what was going on.  
"You're orders are the same," Noonan said finally, "Stay here until the Captain returns from Dreamland, unless we call for retrieval. We may encounter difficulty, in which case your assistance may be required."  
"Um," Sage spoke up, "It's going to take weeks before we're fully repaired. You do realize that, right?"  
"Of course I do," Noonan said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "As I recall, you said you had restored shields and most weapons."  
"Yes, but-"  
"Then that is that. I will leave immediately. Ensign Pysternzyks and Prefect Lashette will accompany me."  
"You're taking a Senousian?"  
"Given the nature of the Matrian Empire we may need a female presence. Don't forget as well that the Senousians have a much larger stake in this than we do." Noonan turned to Fifebee, "Return to Dreamland and assist the Captain. Also, please tell Silverado I said hello."

Dreamland:  
"Are you sure you're feeling OK?" Yanick was asking Wowryk.  
"Of course, dear," Noel replied with a smile, "Why do you ask?"  
"Well, you're being all kind, and happy and stuff," Yanick muttered.  
"This is such a beautiful place," Wowryk smiled, "The trees, the grass, the birds. All my friends are here too. Except for Simon," The smile faded slightly.  
"So where are the she-bitches?" asked Jall, "I mean, shouldn't they notice that a great big castle and about 300 people have suddenly appeared in their realm?"  
"I have not yet connected us to the Matrian Network," Wowryk said calmly, "I felt it would not be prudent. The Captain and I will enter the Matrian Dreamland when he is ready. You will all stay here and wait for my signal."  
"Who put you in charge?" snapped Jall.  
Wowryk made a small gesture. Chains immediately slithered up from the ground, binding Jall's wrists and ankles.  
"Noel," Stafford ordered, "that's enough. Let him go."  
Wowryk nodded and the chains fell.  
"I'm in charge," Stafford said firmly, "but Noel is in control of this reality and understands more about the Matrian way of thinking than any of us. Her plan sounds good."  
There was a small pop as Fifebee appeared. She turned to Stafford.  
"Commander Noonan is departing for Matria Prime. Repairs on the ship are continuing and the Senousians are keeping guard for us."  
"Excellent," Stafford turned to Wowryk, "Whenever you're ready…"  
"Wait," called the computer, "I should come too!"  
"What?" Stafford asked, "Why?"  
"I have 'memories' of all the sensor data collected on the Matrians," she replied primly, "I also have a faster reaction time then either of you."  
"Fifebee has the same advantages, let's take her," Stafford snapped.  
"Fifebee needs to stay here," Noel pointed out, "she's our best link to the outside world."  
"We are NOT taking-"  
"Listen here young man!" the computer snapped, "Between battles with pirates, battles with aliens and having half my systems shorted out by a plumbing accident I think I've been very understanding so far! Now, if I want to contribute in some other way that doesn't involve physical damage I think you owe it to me let me help!"  
Stafford fought to come up with a comeback.  
"C'mon," Jall goaded, "tell her who's boss and get going!"  
"Oh fine!" Stafford said, "I never could say no to Mom anyway," he muttered under his breath.  
"That's better, honey."  
"Stop calling me that!"  
"Oh, this is just going to be ounces of fun," Jall muttered.  
"If you're coming with us," Wowryk said, "You will need a name, even if it's just for now. The Matrians will be suspicious if we keep calling you 'computer.'  
"How about Sylvia?" the computer asked.  
"Oh, that's subtle!" Stafford rolled his eyes.  
"Play nice," Wowryk admonished him, "Time to go." She concentrated, then thrust her arms forward, fingers splayed as though she were pushing against a wall. At the entrance to the castle, where the drawbridge led to the grassy plains outside, a large swirling vortex appeared. As Wowryk drew her arms back the vortex settled until the castle gate was filled with a shimmering doorway. Gasps of awe escape from the crowd as the image became clearer.  
The doorway opened onto a plateau overlooking the Matrian city. It was like something out of a fairy tale. On the outskirts, small houses with perfectly manicured gardens sat facing the streets leading into the city. No vehicular traffic could be seen; instead everybody was walking on foot. Small trees lined the streets and a crystal clear river meandered gently as it flowed deeper into the city. As one moved deeper into the city the small houses were replaced by larger homes then huge mansions, each painted in light, cheery pastel colours. Trees and flowers grew in abundance in small parks that dotted the landscape. At the center of the city was a massive palace that made Castle Wowryk look like a cardboard box; it's dozens of pure white towers and turrets reaching for the sky. Birds sang, small furred creatures scampered about and a few fish even jumped from the stream.  
Looking at the base of the castle, Stafford could see that the river actually flowed into the castle, although why he couldn't imagine. Wowryk and Silvia joined him at the threshold of the portal.  
Stafford turned to Wowryk, who was standing in place, stiff as a statue.

Who is it? asked a light, musical voice in Wowryk's head. Wowryk panicked for a moment. This she hadn't anticipated, contact with the Matrians. She had been hoping to sneak unobtrusively into their city. Thinking fast, she answered.  
My name is, um, Marienne, she thought back, I've been away for a bit, I'm just returning now.  
Welcome back to paradise, Marienne, came the voice, Please be sure your male behaves while he is within the city. Remember, a man may be loved, so long as he obeys his Mistress. This is a recording.  
Wowryk realized that Stafford was calling her name.  
"Sorry," she said shakily, "I was talking to, um, something . I think it was a recording I triggered when I connected to the Matrian world."  
"They know we're here?" Stafford asked, panicked.  
"They know you and I are here. They don't seem to know about the rest of the crew or Sylvia. I told them I was a coming back after being gone for a while. The system welcomed me and reminded me to be sure that you behave."  
"That I behave?" Stafford asked, puzzled.  
"Y'know the signs you see in the park, reminding you to pick up after your dog?" Wowryk asked.  
"Yeah,"  
"Something like that, I guess."  
Stafford gave her an annoyed look, then turned to Jall.  
"Stay here and wait for further orders," he said. He turned to Noel and nodded.  
Noel, Stafford and Silvia stepped through the portal and into the Matrian world.

Reality:

Commander Noonan sat in the co-pilot's seat of the runabout Asessippi as Ensign Pysternzyks guided the small vessel through Matrian space.  
"Contact at 285 mark 4," Noonan reported, "Matrian scout ship."  
"Altering course," Pysternzykz replied as he guided the runabout away from the Matrian vessel.  
Using the runabouts superior sensors, Noonan and Pysternzykz had evaded 3 Matrian ships so far. All three of the previous ships had been tiny patrol vessels that even Asessippi could have blown to pieces. However, since the plan was to sneak onto Matria Prime, Noonan had decided to avoid announcing their presence by blowing things up.  
"I estimate we will arrive at Matria Prime in 30 minutes at this rate," hissed the Andorian officer.  
"I see. Very well. Notify Prefect Lashette. I will start scanning for human life signs as soon as we are within range."  
"That will not help," stated Pysternzykz flatly, "Matrians are too similar to humans for us to be able to detect Jeffery from orbit."  
"We don't know that," Noonan said, "for all we know, all the Matrians we've encountered so far could be captives like the Senousians."  
"I doubt it,"  
"Very well, Ensign, your point is well taken. We will scan for Jeffery from orbit. If we cannot locate him we will beam down and attempt to locate him that way."  
"And die in the attempt?" the Andorian asked hopefully.  
"I doubt it."

"That's funny," Ensign Burke muttered to himself.  
"What is it?" Stern asked, concerned.  
"I just found this joke about a Klingon, a Ferengi and a bottle of soy sauce." Burke replied.  
Stern rolled his eyes.  
"Next time it better be something important!" he snapped.  
"I'm also picking some kind subspace carrier wave. It just popped up."  
"Any idea what it is?"  
"Nope. Hey, you wanna hear the joke?"  
"No!" Stern snapped, "Well, Ok. But quickly."  
"Ok!" Burke turned to him eagerly, "So there's this Klingon…"

"Turn left! Now!" Noonan barked.  
"I am turning left!"  
"Your OTHER left, Ensign!"  
The runabout banked and weaved as Pysternzykz fought to keep them out of sight of the 6 cruisers orbiting Matria Prime. They had gotten close to the planet by hiding in the shadow of the planet's smallest moons and were proceeding to dart closer, hiding behind derelict ships and abandoned stations and working hard not to be seen. Finally, Pysterzykz landed them on the upper surface of an egg-shaped station that Noonan believed was once used to construct scout ships.  
Noonan, Pysternzykz and Lashette looked out the forward windows of the runabout as Matria Prime slowly rotated beneath them.  
Most the planet was unremarkable. Vast oceans covered about two thirds of the planets surface. A very small axial tilt meant that seasons on Matria were all but non-existent.  
Several things about the planet were very unusual, however. Pysternzykz had detected massive cities across the planet's two continents, but only 6 of the cities seemed to be inhabited. Scans of the remaining cities showed abandoned, empty neighborhoods, decaying buildings and cracked roads. Piles of rubble marked the remains of several more cities that had evidently been destroyed.  
The abandonment didn't end with the planet. Noonan and Pysternzykz had identified 15 moderate-to-large space stations, shipyards and research facilities, only 6 of which were still in use. There were also dozens of Matrian ships in various stages of disrepair. Noonan could see signs that several of the derelict ships appeared to be in the midst of repairs, possibly in preparation to bring them back into service.  
"This really isn't what I was expecting," Noonan admitted.  
"From the decay rate I would guess that the empty cities have been abandoned for about a century," stated Lashette. Noonan and Pysterzykz looked at her in surprise.  
"What?" she grumbled, "You think a politician can't do anything but listen to whining idiots all day? I DID go to university, you know!"  
"Start scanning for human life signs," Noonan ordered Pysterzykz. He turned to Lashette, "What do you think happened down there?" he asked.  
"Obviously their population has declined," she said, "there could have been a war, a plague or maybe they can't make babies anymore."  
"I am getting something, Commander," Pysterzykz reported.  
"Jeffery?"  
"I don't think so. I am reading a very large concentration of low-level life signs beneath one of the cities. I am also reading hundreds of active SIDs scattered through the cities."  
"But no Jeffery?" Noonan asked.  
"Not that I can detect."  
"Very well. Lashette and I will beam to the surface. You will remain here. Maintain radio silence except in an emergency, flee if you are detected."  
"Aye sir."  
"Question?" Lashette asked.  
"Yes?"  
"How do you expect me to be of any use to you if there's a SID running down there? Won't I just pass out?"  
"Excellent question," Noonan nodded, "First, many of the life signs in the city are conscious, indicating that not everybody is being subjected to the dream reality. Second, I can modify one of our transporter beacons to emit a subspace bubble similar to the one we used to protect Silverado."  
"Just checking," Lashette muttered.

Noonan and Lashette materialized in a dark alleyway in the largest of the Matrian cities dressed in nondescript clothing. Looking quickly around them to ensure that their arrival hadn't been noticed they eased carefully onto the street.  
Several of the buildings were obviously unoccupied, yet none were in states of disrepair. Indeed, males of a variety of sizes and descriptions moved quickly as they went about ensuring that each building, each slab of sidewalk and each section of the street was in perfect condition. As they watched a large surface vehicle filled with produce ambled down the street from the direction of the city limits, heading towards the center of the city. The few restaurants and bars in sight appeared to be completely closed down, but looked ready to reopen at any time. Indeed, the whole city felt like it was being kept 'ready to reopen.'  
Half a block down, Noonan could see a crowd of men gathered around a fallen figure. Easing closer he started to tap at his tricorder.  
"The collapsed person is under the effects of the SID," he muttered to Lashette.  
"You mean he's in Dreamland?"  
"Exactly."  
The figure stirred, then started to sit up. The crowd hushed and gathered closer.  
A look of pure joy broke over the fallen man's features.  
"They're pleased with me," he whispered, "they are pleased with the work we've done!"  
A loud cheer went up from the crowd as they buoyed the man onto their shoulders and carried him away. The workmen on the street joined in with cheers of their own as the crowd rushed by.  
"I wish I could get that kind of devotion from my boyfriend," Lashette muttered.  
Cupping his tricorder close to his body, Noonan scanned the area.  
"I am picking up human life signs," he said, "towards the center of the city."  
"Let's go then."

Dreamland:

Stafford, Wowryk and Sylvia arrived successfully in the Matrian Dreamland. Wowryk quickly conjured up a disguise for their portal before leading the way into the city.  
Stafford walked behind Wowryk and 'Sylvia', fuming. Wowryk apparently was perfectly happy to accept the computer as a sentient individual, but Stafford definitely wasn't. Computers in Starfleet often appeared to be relatively intelligent, but it was all programming. There was no actual 'awareness'. It couldn't even be proven whether holograms or androids were truly achieving sentience or just mimicking it. Not that he would ever say that to Fifebee. He had to admit that Fifebee really did seem real to him.  
But the computer was a simulation of his mother. How could a simulation become real? It couldn't! End of story. Sylvia was nothing more than a hiccup in the computer's gel-pack.  
"As a physician," Wowryk was saying, "it's my duty to heal my patients. Most whine constantly about the pain. When the ship is damaged, do you experience pain as well?"  
"Nope," Sylvia answered cheerfully, "I mean, I am aware of the damage. I can 'feel' power conduits shorting out, hull plates breaching and circuits being destroyed, but I wouldn't call it pain. It's just data."  
"Lucky you," Stafford muttered, "then I guess you won't feel a thing when I rip every gel-pack out of that damned computer core!"  
Sylvia looked extremely hurt. Wowryk pulled Stafford roughly to the side.  
"Captain," Wowryk admonished angrily, "that was very inappropriate. Would you say something like that to your real mother?"  
"Of course not! My mother is a saint!" Stafford snapped.  
"And how would she feel if you told her you planned to kill her?"  
"That's not my mother! You can't kill something that's not alive!"  
"Answer the question!"  
Stafford said nothing.  
"You need to watch it, Chris," Wowryk warned, "you may have your doubts about her sentience, but I don't. I can feel her in the network as well as I can feel you! And you need to realize that the personality profile of your mother doesn't just mean cute phrases, her external appearance and a tendency to force the crew to overeat! She loves you like a son and your behavior is really hurting her." Wowryk smiled as a tall woman in a green dress glided by. The woman, seeing that Wowryk was 'disciplining her male', nodded and smiled approvingly before moving on.  
"It's not the same," Stafford insisted, "I have a mother, and I love her. This MACHINE can't expect to get the same treatment as my real mom!"  
"Maybe not. But that's no excuse for you to be a complete asshole!" Wowryk put her hands on her hips, "You will behave like a proper gentleman, Captain!"  
"Or what?"  
"Or I'll send you right back to Silverado and find Jeffery on my own!"  
"You wouldn't disobey my orders, would you?" Stafford asked.  
Wowryk looked at him coldly.  
"Yes, you would," he sighed. He shook his head angrily then walked over to where Sylvia was patiently waiting.  
"Look," he said, "I'm sorry about what I said. It was inappropriate of me,"  
Sylvia looked at Stafford. He could see the pain in her eyes, but she said nothing as she gestured for them to continue on their way.

As they continued to walk down the street they saw several unusual happenings that only emphasized the point that they were in an artificial dream world. One woman was reorganizing her lawn decorations, but rather than carrying them around she was using her powers to rearrange everything. The effect was almost Disney-like, with garden gnomes, decorative rocks and even a wishing well dancing around like puppets. Well-dressed, dignified looking women walked the streets. Some were accompanied by men, most were alone or talking cheerfully with other women. As they approached the palace the group from Silverado noticed that the dresses became fancier, the shops and homes more elaborate and the atmosphere closer to the rigid monarchy of Queen Wowryk and her Sisters of the Realm. Even the male slaves were sporting more elaborate dress as they obediently followed their mistresses.  
"What's the plan?" Stafford asked quietly, "don't tell me you're just going to waltz into the palace!"  
"Actually," Wowryk answered, "it is. They don't recognize us, so we go in to pay our respects and then hatch a plan to get Jeffery out, if he's in there anyway."  
"That's ridiculous!" Stafford hissed, "what if-"  
"Quiet!" Sylvia snapped. Stafford noticed that several of the women on the street had stopped to stare openly at the 'slave' who was speaking less than respectfully to his mistress. Even the male slaves were shocked.  
Wowryk immediately turned to Stafford. With a snap of her fingers she conjured up a gag that quickly wrapped itself around Stafford's mouth.  
"He's new," she said to the onlookers with a nervous laugh, "still learning the ropes, y'know?"

Reality:

Noonan and Lashette found themselves at the entrance to a massive concrete structure. No less than 12 guards stood along the short tunnel leading into the building.  
"I'm not sure what this is," Noonan said to Lashette, "But it looks important."  
"Great," Lashette murmured back, "so how do we get in?"

Mikal 212 gasped in shock as the women approached him. A woman! In the real world! Amazing!  
"M'Lady," he gasped as he dropped to one knee before Lashette.  
"Greetings," Lashette said coolly, "My manservant and I wish to enter. Let us in."  
"Of course, M'Lady. Please state the clearance code, and we will be only too happy to obey."  
Noonan whispered in Lashette's ear.  
"Genesis of the Realm," she said confidently. The guard bowed and opened the door, allowing Lashette and Noonan to enter.  
"How the hell did you know that?" Lashette hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.  
"Easy," he replied, "it was forefront in his mind."  
"You're a mind-reader?"  
"Very limited telepathy. It comes in handy sometimes."  
"Obviously!"  
They continued to follow the wide corridor deeper into the structure. Noonan saw no doors or windows. The walls were cold, grey granite with rounded red marble pillars every 10 feet. A series of images hung, depicting figures locked in battle.  
"I wonder if these are artwork, or if they represent some historical event?" Noonan muttered to himself.  
"I just hope those people had a good doctor around when the fighting was done!" replied Lashette.

Dreamland

"That was very masterful, the way you handled your male," the woman was saying.  
"Thank you," replied Noel with a smile.  
Gingel was the woman's name. She had come up to talk to Noel shortly after she had finished quieting Stafford.  
"How long have you had him?" she asked. She didn't speak to Stafford; rather she eyed him as one might eye a moderately interesting zoo specimen. She didn't even seem to notice Sylvia.  
"Oh, a few weeks," Noel said, "We've been away for a while. He's still a bit rough around the edges, but I'm sure with proper training he'll be just fine."  
"Indeed," Gingel beamed, "Are you on your way to see Mistress Laurette?"  
"I was hoping to see her," Wowryk said, assuming Mistress Laurette was the woman in charge. She was getting very close to the palace, after all.  
"Then you simply must come with me!" Gingel insisted, "She loves getting news of the outside world. Sure, we bring men in all the time, but a woman's viewpoint is always welcome."  
"Thank you," Wowryk said with a smile. Gingel motioned for them to follow her. Stafford walked behind the women, careful not to draw any more attention to himself.  
"So, how are conditions outside?" Gingel was asking, "Are they as promising as the men tell us?"  
"Um, things are definitely looking good," Noel said.  
"I hear several ships were lost," Gingel said.  
"Well, other than that," Noel replied nervously. She really had no idea what things were like for the Matrians; Silverado hadn't even entered Matrian space.  
They walked in silence for a few moments. Finally, Wowryk spoke again.  
"I understand a man was taken from the Federation ship," she said carefully.  
"Oh, yes," Gingel said with a slight sneer, "The Mistress's new toy. Honestly, why couldn't she choose a Matrian male? Or even a Senousian? What is the point in antagonizing an entirely new alien race just to get a man?"  
"Good points," Wowryk said absently. Inwardly, she cheered. Jeffery was here! In the castle! He was also apparently the Mistress's new man/slave/who-knows-what, but he was here!"

Stafford continued to follow as Noel and Gingel continued to talk about nothing in particular. His heart started racing as topics such as the 'outside world' and 'the new man' came up; he was concerned that Wowryk would inadvertently reveal something she shouldn't. He was relieved that they at least knew where Jeffery was. He noticed that they were approaching the castle gates. Surprisingly enough, there were no guards. No security personnel. Not even a bloody receptionist! The women walked past the gleaming white stone blocks and under a huge archway leading to the castle entrance.  
Inside, they followed what felt like miles of stone hallways, each one covered with tapestries, paintings and other objects d'arte. Finally, they emerged into a massive throne room.  
Stafford finally understood why the river ran into the castle. Looking down from the entrance to the massive room he could see it running into a large pool directly beneath him, a stone bridge crossing to the pool's edge. The bridge changed to a series of steps going down towards the center of the room while the water poured down from 4 shell shaped spouts into another pool that surrounded the central platform on which the thrones sat. Behind the thrones the river continued out of the room, flowing out a tunnel directly beneath another set of doors. Above the pools to either side were benches filled with women in expensive-looking attire. Obviously, these were the crème de la crème of Matrian society. Gingel, Noel, Stafford and Sylvia descended the steps to wait before the empty thrones.  
A light chime sounded as the large doors opened, revealing a tall, beautiful woman. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, accentuating her perfect breasts and slim figure. She wore a form-fitting outfit of pure white with faint black highlights. A crown of gold filigree sat on her head and a gold scepter topped with a massive diamond was grasped daintily in her right hand. She held Simon Jeffery's hand in her left hand as she walked towards the throne.  
At her first step, the women sitting in the side benches rose as one and immediately brought their hands out as though grasping something. The water in the pool rose, forming a series of fluid shapes; clouds, animals, flowers and even a huge model of the castle materializing as the women used their powers to manipulate the water, paying homage to their leader.  
She led Jeffery towards the throne. As she sat the waters calmed, falling back into the pools. Stafford saw with surprise that Jeffery, rather than being chained at the woman's feet, was seated in the throne next to her. Furthermore, he was dressed in resplendent black cloths; a crown matching the woman's seated on his head.  
"Mistress Laurette," said Gingel with a bow, "Might I present Noel Wowryk."  
"Thank you, Gingel," the woman replied. Her voice was firm, authoritative. Yet it was also polite, almost friendly. "You have done well to find her and bring her to me,"  
Gingel nodded, while Stafford and Sylvia exchanged worried glances. Find her?  
"And greetings to you as well, Captain Christopher Stafford of the Federation Starship Silverado," Laurette purred.  
"Oh, f**k me," Stafford muttered.

Noonan and Lashette had finally reached the end of the massive corridor, finding an equally large lift. Unlike the corridor, the lift was paneled in glass.  
"Where do you suppose this goes?' Lashette asked.  
"Beneath the city, obviously."  
"Any guesses on what we're going to find?"  
"Yes, but I would prefer to wait before speculating. Shall we?" He motioned to the lift.  
There were only two buttons. Noonan pressed the lower button. The lift moved down, the stone walls of the shaft rushing by.  
After a minute of travel the walls gave way, revealing a huge cavern. Easily 3 kilometers in diameter, the cavern stretched away in all directions, the lift moving down the center. Staggered terraces led down to a flat plain, in the center of which was a large dome. Conduits and cables of all kinds snaked from around the cavern and into the dome. Hundreds of identical devices were scattered through the cavern; some hanging from the ceiling, others clamped to the walls and still others sitting on the floor. Noonan's tricorder quickly identified them: Matrian spatial interphase/cortical induction devices. Noonan could also see suspended animation pods lining every terrace. Hundreds. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands.  
Each containing a single, unconscious female.  
The lift dropped into the dome, blocking their view of the cavern.  
"Wow," Lashette gasped.  
"This dome must house the central Matrian computer," Noonan said, tapping at his tricorder, "The central nexus to all of their SIDs. Every Matrian ship, every SID on the planet's surface, every SID in this cavern links here. I'm picking up more subspace carrier waves then I though could exist in one place!"  
"Any Senousian or human life signs?" Lashette asked.  
"One human male," Noonan replied, "but no Senousians. The only Senousians I've detected have been on the surface."  
"I wonder why,"  
"Obviously," Noonan stated, "These women are in the Matrian Dreamland. Judging from the pods they are in, they plan to be there for a long time. Their bodies must be cared for in the real world while their minds exist in Dreamland.  
"That's why the men are up there," Lashette said, understanding dawning on her face, "The women live in Dreamland, then men maintain the machines, the cities and the ships."  
"More than that," Noonan replied, "The men provide defense against intruders. And they're also repairing and maintaining the cities, the ships and the space stations. Why would they do that?"  
"Yes," Lashette said, "Why go to the effort to enslave thousands of my people to repair and defend cities that nobody is going to live in?"  
"That is indeed the question," Noonan said as he stepped out of the lift and into a wide hallway, identical to the one upstairs except for the passages leading deep into the computer systems. At the far end he could see that the hall opened up into the cavern. He immediately started walking towards the exit.  
"Where are you gong?" Lashette demanded.  
"To look for Mr. Jeffery."  
"Shouldn't we be figuring out this computer system?"  
"Why would we do that?" Noonan asked.  
"To shut it down!"  
"That would be a violation of the Prime Directive, Prefect," Noonan stated calmly, "as this is a Starfleet mission, I must require that you adhere to Starfleet regulations."  
"But if we shut down the computers, we'll free everybody!" Lashette snapped.  
"And we would awaken several hundred thousand Matrian women, all of whom are in this chamber. Do you really think our odds of escape would be favorable?"  
Lashette paused for a moment.  
"Let's see what else we can find," Noonan said, walking towards the dome exit, his footfalls echoing in the massive chamber.

Dreamland

Mistress Laurette was sitting properly in her throne, an amused expression on her face. Jeffery sat next to her, looking blankly ahead.  
"Do you really think I wouldn't notice your little incursion into our realm?" she asked Wowryk, "Or that I wouldn't recognize you immediately? I have all of dear Simon's memories and knowledge; and while I really have no use for the pylon stress tolerances for an Ambassador-class warp pylon, his knowledge of you has been most interesting." Laurette caressed Simon's hand. Simon turned to her and smiled, but the gesture was cold, mechanical.  
Noel's throat tightened as she stared back at Laurette. Finally, she spoke.  
"Why him?" she demanded, "You've attacked our ship and you've invaded our space! You've sent your machines right to our homeworld! Why is Simon so f**king important!"  
"He wasn't, to begin with," Laurette said, "I suppose after all the trouble we've caused the least I can do is explain!"  
"That's for damned sure!" Stafford said angrily.  
"Silence!" ordered Laurette, "You will speak only when spoken to, man!"  
"Objection!" called a voice from the side benches, "The Captain is here as a representative of a culture outside of Matrian society that has not yet embraced the purity of femininity. As a representative of said culture he must be allowed to speak freely."  
"Seconder?" asked Laurette with an air of boredom.  
"I second," called another voice.  
"Objection sustained," announced Laurette, "My apologies Captain, the Council has spoken."  
"Right," Stafford said slowly, "Um, thanks. You were going to explain?"  
"Ah, yes," Laurette said, "Why is Simon so important? Understand, Captain, Doctor, that we've been searching this part of the galaxy for a man like Simon. I'm sure you noticed that we don't have the, er, manpower for such a search, so we arranged for our Dream Machines to be distributed to as many races as possible, each one programmed to locate the perfect male."  
While Laurette was talking, Stafford looked at the woman who had voiced the objection. She was petite with blond hair and a pleasing figure, like most of the other Matrians. But while the others were looking at him with combinations of boredom and hostility, her face revealed only curiosity. She smiled slightly at Stafford, who looked away and focused his attention back on Laurette.  
"Don't you have enough men already?" asked Noel, "You've kidnapped thousands of Senousians and who knows how many others!"  
"But none of them matched our criteria," Laurette explained patiently, "they're fine for foot soldiers or workers, but we needed somebody special." She patted Jeffery on the arm.  
"We had very little luck," Laurette admitted, "we found a few promising candidates, but each in the end proved far too aggressive and assertive for our tastes. And then we discovered the Federation. Right on the fringe of known space, we discovered your Waystation. Finding somebody to distribute our Dream Machines was easy and, miracle of miracles, we received a confirmation signal from one of those devices, telling us the perfect man had been located. Of course, we had no idea how we would actually obtain him from you, but when your ship came practically to our doorstep it was clear that we had been blessed."  
"At which point you decided to attack me, I mean us!" stated Sylvia  
"Did somebody say something?" Laurette asked, confused.  
"U, I did," Noel said, "I said 'that's when you decided to attack us?'"  
"Oh, yes. Unfortunately, you proved more difficult than we had expected, considering the condition your ship was in when our scout made the initial report. But then you found the Senousians, and it became only too easy to set the trap."  
As Laurette and Noel were speaking, Sylvia and Stafford were exchanging glances. Stafford jerked his head slightly towards Laurette. Taking the hint, Sylvia walked forward and stood right in front of the splendidly dressed Mistress.  
Laurette took no notice, rather she continued telling Wowryk about the many brave slaves who had fought to obtain their perfect man for them.  
"She doesn't know I'm here," Sylvia whispered to Stafford.  
"They've never had an artificial being in here before," Stafford muttered, trying hard not to move his lips, "be ready to move if things get ugly. You weren't with us the first time we were stuck in one of these things, but remember that anything you want, you can make happen."  
"Understood. And I do have the crew logs on that event, you know."  
"But what makes Simon so perfect!" Noel was demanding, frustrated.  
"You of all people should know," Laurete said, the amused look on her face, "The alien who thinks like a Matrian. You know," Laurette laughed, "there was quite an uproar when we learned about your reaction to the Dream Machine. It was so similar to our own, some thought that we should 'rescue' you from the Federation immediately. Of course, that motion was ultimately rejected, but perhaps you might like to consider staying here with us?"  
"Why Simon!?" Noel snapped.  
Laurette sighed.  
"Think about it, my dear. You're so much like us. What qualities does he possess that you find most appealing?"  
Noel thought for a moment.  
"He's kind, intelligent and reasonably attractive," she said.  
Laurette scoffed.  
"Please! You think we didn't find thousands of men who met THOSE criteria? Think harder, dear!"  
"He's…obedient," Noel said finally, "Timid. Non-threatening."  
"And?" Laurette prompted.  
"Easy to control," Noel finished softly.  
"Exactly!" Laurette said with a smile, "Look at him! Perfectly docile! He would die for us in an instant!"  
"But you have thousands of men like that!" objected Stafford, "How many of them did die attacking us!"  
"Excellent point," Laurette conceded, "And the answer is simple: the Dream Machines. Oh, I know from Simon here that you've figured them out. How we use them for control as well as to maintain our realm. But take one of our men out of their sphere of influence, and he reverts. That's no good to us. We needed a man who would stay loyal to us, Dream Machine or not!"  
"Why?" Stafford asked, worry evident on his face.  
"Why, to act as our representative, of course," Laurette smiled, "To lead our forces on their mission of conquest; to establish a bigger, better Matrian Empire throughout this entire sector!"  
"So, you're a power-mad despot with aspirations of galactic domination?" Stafford sighed, "Come on, do you really think you've got a chance?"  
"Of course not," Laurette said, "not now! Especially since your single, outdated ship managed to obliterate half our space force. But we're patient. Our men are working now to repair what ships they can, and to build more. We'll start expanding slowly, offering new worlds the beauty that is our realm. Simon here will explain to them why our way is better, and if they agree then their women will join us here in Dreamland while their men work to fuel our Empire. If they refuse, we'll conquer them and add them anyway. We shall be like a snowball, gaining resources and ships slowly at first, then faster and faster until we rival even your Federation!"  
"You're crazy," Stafford said flatly, "The Federation could put a stop to your plans at any time! You think Silverado did some damage to your fleet? Have you ever seen a Sovereign-class starship? They're bigger, far more powerful and could kick your talcum-powdered butts into next week!"  
"Talcum powder?" Laurette shuddered, "How primitive! Anyway, once we destroy you and your ship the Federation won't know what's happening out here, will they? Guards!"  
"NOW!" Stafford shouted at Sylvia. The computer/woman immediately brought up her arms, palms up. Responding to her whims, the pools of water leapt into the air and rushed to form a swirling tornado of water around the central platform. A single woman had leapt over the pool at Stafford's outburst. Stafford saw that it was the petite blond who had spoken in his defense.  
"We've got to get out of here!" she said sharply.  
"Tell me something I don't know!" Stafford shouted, trying to be heard over the roaring water.  
"Who is doing this?" Laurette demanded. She turned, focusing finally on Sylvia, "You! What are you? How did you get here?"  
"I'm pissed off is what I am!" snapped Sylvia in reply.  
Laurette brought up her hand, directing a harsh bolt of lightening directly at Sylvia. Wowryk reached out, reflecting the bolt back at Laurette and adding a fireball for good measure. Laurette returned fire. Soon the two women were linked by a constant stream of energy, each straining to defeat the other.  
"Simon, get him!" Laurette snapped. Jeffery obediently stood and started walking towards Stafford.  
"Oh c'mon Simon," Stafford groaned, "do we really have to go through this again?"  
The blond woman directed an energy blast of her own at Laurette, who fell to the side, the burst of energy from Wowryk vaporizing the back of the throne.  
"C'mon!" the blond cried.  
Wowryk, Stafford and Sylvia followed her as she slipped into the now empty pool and rushed frantically for the tunnel leading out.  
"Release the water!" she commanded Sylvia.  
Sylvia nodded her head and made a quick gesture. The swirling water in the throne room dropped back into the pools, rushing down the tunnel and washing the escapees down to freedom.  
Lauretted climbed back to her feet, taking in the soaking wet carpets, the wet and dripping women and the destroyed paintings.  
"Return them to me. Destroy their ship."

Wowryk, Stafford, Sylvia and the blond slid down the tunnel as the water rushed past them. Stafford was actually enjoying the waterslide ride, until he found himself flying out a spout in the outer palace wall, falling several feet before splashing into a large pond.  
"Well, that was fun," Wowryk fumed, her beautiful white and blue dress a tattered ruin.  
"You really haven't been here long, have you," said the blond girl. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Seconds later she was dry, her dress returning to its former resplendent condition.  
"I'm Krissy, but the way," she said.  
Wowryk and Sylvia quickly copied her, each returning to their previous conditions. Stafford, after a moment, followed suit.  
"Thank you for helping us," Noel said.  
"You are welcome," replied Krissy, "There is much I need to tell you about, but let's hurry, this is the first place they'll look.

"Laurette's plan is insane," Krissy started. She had led them to a mansion not far from the palace. She assured them that Laurette wouldn't think to look there.  
"We don't have the resources to start waging war on this sector," she continued, "what's more, we can't justify the enslavement of tens of thousands of alien men."  
"But what about your own," Stafford asked pointedly. Krissy hesitated.  
"There's a lot of history you need to know," she said finally, "I'm not sure where to begin, or what to tell you."  
"Maybe I can help," Sylvia said gently, "can you give me access to your history databanks?"  
"Of course," Krissy said, "It is done."  
Sylvia's eyes fluttered briefly as she communicated, computer to computer, with the Matrian historical archives.  
When she was finished, she turned to Stafford.  
"You're not going to believe this," Sylvia said, "But two hundred years ago, the Matrians were a fairly standard warp civilization. They sent their ships on missions of exploration, made contact with new species, developed trade and so forth. Or at least the women did, anyway. Matrian men, it was sad to say, weren't the brightest crayons in the box, and so to the women went the choice jobs, juicy assignments and fat payrolls. There was nothing sexist about this way of life. On the contrary, any Matrian men who had the brains and the skills were welcomed to peruse any jobs they wanted. Selection was purely matter of skills. The fact that most women were better skilled and more intelligent then the men was the only reason for the discontinuity in the workforce."  
"So, you're saying the Matrian men were all idiots?" Stafford asked dryly.  
"Indeed," replied Sylvia.  
"Doesn't sound much different from Earch," Noel muttered.  
"One hundred and seventy-five years ago," Sylvia continued, "a young Matrian captain by the name of Catelith traded Matrian computer core technology for information on genetic engineering from a race called the Endilians. Upon her return home, after nearly 5 years of debate, it was determined that it was time to elevate the men of Matria Prime to the intellectual level of the women, ending the unfair balance of the sexes. Less than a year later, the first genetically enhanced Matrian male was born. Within months, every male born was a product of the engineering, and as they grew their parents watched with great pride as their sons, for the first time, found themselves to be equal in intelligence and ability to their sisters, mothers and aunts."  
"Let me guess," Noel said, "Equality wasn't good enough for them, they decided they were the superior sex and should be given full control of the planet?"  
"Doesn't sound too different from Terran feminists if you ask me!" Stafford shot back.  
Sylvia continued her story.  
"Unsatisfied with equality, this new race of men quickly began to seek superiority over their female brethren. Matters escalated when 6 men held an entire school hostage, demanding that they be allowed onto the Matrian Council of Governors."  
"Sounds like the Eugenics Wars," Noel and Stafford said together.  
"Indeed. Man vs. woman, the Matrian ships of exploration quickly became ships of war. Their contact with outside cultures dwindled as they fought each other for dominance over their homeworld. Yet despite their superior numbers, the women couldn't reign in their male adversaries."  
"Why not?" Noel asked Krissy.  
"Compassion," Krissy answered sadly, "We had created those men. It wasn't easy for us to fight them."  
"Sensing this hesitation," Sylvia went on, "the men unleashed weapons of mass destruction upon two of the larger cities. This final act of savagery finally convinced the women that they had no choice but to crush the male forces.  
"Within a year Matria Prime itself was in ruins; cities destroyed or damaged, the space stations gutted and ships left derelict. It was then that a group of female scientists discovered how to use spatial distortions to affect the nervous system. Once they made that discovery, it was an easy matter to create devices that would distinguish the brain waves of specific individuals, altering their personalities while leaving other unaffected.  
"The war was over in two days," Krissy said, "and not a single man was harmed."  
"Unfortunately, that didn't change the fact that their planet was in ruins," said Sylvia, "The remains of the Matrian Council of Governors gathered for the last time to determine the punishment of the men and the last course of action for the women.  
"As the men had been the destroyers, they would now become the rebuilders. Their task; to restore Matria Prime to its former condition. The cities, the ships, the space stations and everything else. The women, in the meantime, would go into suspended animation in a great vault beneath the capitol city, the construction of which was the first task of the men.  
"It was estimated that the restoration would take between 100 and 200 years. Using the same technology used to create the modified men, the women implemented a plan by which men could be cloned at the same rate at which they died out, maintaining the population balance.  
"One the restoration of Matria Prime was complete; the women would emerge from the vault to live in harmony with their men and to continue their society from where it had been so rudely interrupted.  
"Sounds pretty good," Stafford said, "what went wrong?"  
"Probably the men," Wowryk muttered.  
"I bet it was the women!" Stafford snapped.  
"Men!"  
"Women!"  
"Here comes Gender War 2," muttered Krissy.  
"The only problem," Sylvia said pointedly, "was again the men."  
Wowryk stuck her tongue out at Stafford, who rolled his eyes in disgust.  
"Intelligence in the men had already been bred into a generation," Sylvia went one, oblivious, "and only more extensive genetic manipulation would be able to return them to their former state. Rather than tamper any more with their bodies, it was decided that before the Great Reawakening, the women would have to select a man, one man, to serve along side the Prime Governor. By having both a man and a woman in power, they hoped to avoid a repeat of the war that had devastated their world. Once the restoration was complete and that man had been found, the women would emerge from their Dreamland and the men, their penance having been paid, could be freed from their mind control devices.  
"Wow," Stafford murmured, turning to Wowryk, "and here I thought you had gender issues!"  
Wowryk gave Stafford an annoyed look before turning to Krissy.  
"But that's still a much better plan that establishing an interstellar slave society!" she objected, "what happened?"  
"Laurette was elected Prime Governor," Krissy replied, "About 15 years ago. She convinced the council that our original plan wasn't feasible, and that it would be much better to just subjugate all men instead."  
"Oh, so it WAS a woman who caused all our problems," Stafford grinned, looking at Noel. She ignored him.  
"So you decided to enslave men throughout the quadrant just like that? Noel asked.  
"Of course not," Krissy snapped, "We were a peaceful people! It took years of debate before her plan was accepted by the council."  
"But if it was accepted, then what are you doing here helping us?" Sylvia asked.  
"Because their plan is wrong," Krissy said, "Best case scenario, we'll be forced back to our homeworld when other races start fighting back. Worst case, we'll be obliterated."  
"I dunno," Stafford said, "A few well placed SIDs and any planet will find themselves welcoming Matrian rule, whether they really want it or not."  
"That's Laurette's plan," said Krissy, "but you and your crew are obvious proof that our Dream Machines aren't perfect."  
"Oh. So what do we do?"  
"We go to Laurette," Noel said firmly.  
"What? We just finished running away from her!" Stafford objected.  
"I know. But we have more information now. We have to convince her that their original plan was better." Noel said.  
"You heard her, they debated this for years! What makes you think you can change their minds?"  
"I think like them," Noel said, "And I have an understanding of the outside world. I'm very sure I can bring them around."  
"Very sure?" Stafford said.  
"I don't think we have a choice anymore," Krissy said tiredly, "Laurette and her guards are at the front door."

Reality

Noonan and Lashette stood over one of the suspended animation pods, Noonan's tricorder finally returned to his belt.  
"It's Jeffery all right," he said, surveying the engineer's unconscious form.  
"Good. Let's wake him up and get out. This place is giving me the creeps."  
"He's very deeply linked to the Matrian network," Noonan said, "If we unhook him before he's properly released, the shock will most likely kill him."  
"So now what?'  
"Captain Stafford and Dr. Wowryk are working to free him as we speak."  
"I'm sorry, but that's just not good enough!" Lashette said angrily, "We're here to free people, not stand around waiting!"  
"Actually, I am here to do exactly that."  
Lashette's hand snapped out, gripping the modified transporter beacon attached to Noonan's shoulder.  
"If I shut this down, I'm betting you'll be on an express trip straight to the Matrian Dreamland. Either help me turn off this computer, or you can go join your friends!"  
"No," Noonan said coldly.  
Lashette yanked the beacon. Noonan wavered for a moment, then collapsed to the floor. She proceeded to walk back into the dome housing the computer core.  
"Now where the hell is the 'off' switch?"

"This is Lieutenant Stern to all vessels, we have incoming! Repeat, we have picked up Matrian ships on a direct course to intercept! Reading 3 cruisers, 4 scouts and several patrol ships!" Stern was pacing back and forth in Silverado's Main Engineering, panicked.  
"Recall the repair teams! Status report!" he barked at Ensign Burke.  
"Shields are at 100 %," the stocky blond science officer reported, "Weapons are online, but the targeting computer is running on backups. Impulse engines are at 70 %."  
"Warp?"  
"If we go to warp, we might disrupt the SID," Burke said, "I don't suggest it, unless you want to turn everybody in the saucer into mindless vegetables."  
"Wasn't planning on it! Red Alert! Battle stations!"  
Ensign Pye was seated at one of the two panels facing the warp core, having tied helm control into that station. Burke was up on the second level running sensors. Stern could see his boot heels though the metal grating that formed to floor of the second engineering level. Stern himself had converted the Master Systems console into a tactical station. Jeffery's Nicondii engineers were trying hard to work around them, but engineering was becoming far too crowded.  
Outside, the captured Matrian scout 'Broomstick', the Senousian cruiser Klitor and Silverado's three shuttles readied themselves for the coming battle.  
"We only have to hold until the Captain is done," Stern said to himself.

Dreamland

Stafford, Sylvia, Noel and Krissy had been dragged back into the throne room, which had been perfectly restored. They found themselves once again surrounded by the Matrian Court with Mistress Laurette seated beside Jeffery on her throne.  
"It was very rude of you to leave so abruptly," Laurette said as the extended her hand towards Stafford, preparing for the killing blow, "I was so enjoying our conversation. Pity." Before she could make good on her desire to kill him, Wowryk stood in her way.  
"Oh please honey," Laurette said, "As if I wouldn't kill you too?"  
"Wait," Wowryk said, "Krissy's told us about what happened! You don't have to do this! There's a better way!"  
"I don't think so."  
"Isn't it true that a woman's viewpoint is always welcome?" demanded Wowryk, "By your own customers, you must hear me out."  
There were grumbles of assent from the Court. Laurette sighed.  
"Fine! But we've been over this! Men cannot be trusted!"  
"Hold on," Stafford muttered to Sylvia, "it's up to Dr. Wowryk to convince them that men are trustworthy and that we shouldn't be enslaved?"  
"Yes, dear," Sylvia replied.  
"Oh," Stafford groaned, "We are SOOO f**ked!"

Reality

"RIGHT Ensign!" Stern shouted at Pye, "I said maneuver RIGHT!"  
"I am going right!" Pye objected.  
"You're OTHER right!"  
"That would be my left!"  
"Look, you're facing aft, I'm facing fore. You're left is my right!"  
"Isn't this why we're supposed to use port and starboard?"  
"Starboard! STARBOARD! NOW!" Stern screamed.  
Pye yanked Silverado around to starboard as a Matrian cruiser loomed on his sensor readouts. Unable to get out of the cruisers path, Silverado's saucer struck the cruiser's lower surface. The ships ground together as the cruiser dragged against the upper port surface of the saucer, ripping up hull plates and smashing the port phaser array. Fortunately nobody was using the HR office as it was vented open to space.  
"Dorsal shields are down!" shouted Ensign Frit Naketh, "remaining shields at 30 %! The Broomstick has been destroyed, the Klitor is heavily damaged!"  
Silverado shook as another Matrian energy burst splashed against her weakened shields. The Avalanche and the Charger swung around the ship's warp nacelles, adding their fire to Silverado's and blowing the Matrian cruiser to pieces.  
Two Matrian scouts returned fire, sending the Charger spinning into space and scoring a direct hit on the Avalanche. The shuttle spun out of control, colliding with the Matrian scout and destroying both vessels in a massive explosion.  
"We've lost the Avalanche!" called Burke.  
"'Like a rock', my ass!" muttered Stern as the ship shook again.

Dreamland

T'Parief paced the grounds of Castle Wowryk, occasionally glancing towards the archway where the Matrian city was still visible.  
"What is taking so long!" he growled.  
"Oh, you know those two," Yanick giggled, "I bet that Noel is trying to convert the Matrians to Christianity! And then, when they try to get to the palace, they'll get lost, cuz Noel has NO sense of direction, and then Chris will be too stubborn to ask for directions! They probably haven't even made it halfway to Simon yet!"  
"Then what are WE doing?" T'Parief grumbled, "I'm sure we could be far more useful on Silverado."  
"I just checked in with them half an hour ago," Fifebee interjected, "they were just fine. The odds of something catastrophic happening within those 30 minutes are infinitesimal.  
"Stop pacing!" Trish complained to T'Parief, "You're driving me crazy!"  
"And Jall's pointless prattle about Andorian Razor Sculpture didn't?  
"At least he went off to have some fun with those hot stable boys!" Yanick snapped. She immediately bit her lip, "Oh…oops…"  
"Oh please," sneered Fifebee, "I'm sure everybody has long since figured out the secret of Jall's preferences!"  
"His what?" asked T'Parief.  
"Never mind, handsome," Trish said, "C'mon, sit down."  
"I cannot," T'Parief said firmly, "I can't shake the sense that we're…missing something."

Stafford rubbed the bridge of his nose as he watched Noel Wowryk, bible-thumping, man-hating bitch, as she addressed the Matrian Court on the virtues of masculinity. At least she was leaving out her usual vocabulary of 'primitive, savage, disgusting, etc'.  
"Men are not perfect, even on my world," she began, "Once our world was ruled by them, as yours was ruled by women. However, women proved themselves to be intelligent, independent and in every way man's equal. It was a long struggle. Some cultures took longer than others, but gender discrimination hasn't existed on Earth for centuries!"  
"And how do the experiences of your world help us with ours?" one woman asked pointedly.  
Wowryk dropped her diplomatic look-at-me-I'm-being-friendly-but-convincing tone and glared at the woman.  
"I'm trying to demonstrate that man and woman can live together in harmony!" she snapped.  
"Maybe on your world," said Laurette, "but what do you know of our men? How can you decide that we should try to live with them?"  
"You ARE living with them!" Wowryk said, switching back in to diplomat mode, "You bring them into Dreamworld! They're your companions, your confidents."  
"Our servants and our slaves," Laurette said flatly.  
"This doesn't end with the men on your world!" Wowryk went on, "You're presuming that NO men are good enough for you! You've already enslaved thousands of Senousians. Can you honestly say that you've tried living with them? Or any of the other hundreds of races in this part of the galaxy? You have no more right to judge them than I do to judge your men! I understand how you feel, I felt the same way. No man could treat me right, no man could possibly measure up, they were all horny, disgusting, primitive pigs."  
"Oh yeah, she's really going to convince them with this," Stafford sighed to Sylvia.  
"But I found a man," Wowryk continued, pointing at Jeffery, "That man! The Federation has a law: the Prime Directive. It states that we can't interfere with your culture. Fine. Release the Senousians and return Simon to me. If you want to live your lives in this false world, be my guest!  
"Are you done?" Laurette asked.  
Wowryk took a deep breath.  
"Yes, I think I am," she said.  
"Very well. All in favour of accepting Noel Wowryk's proposal to surrender Master Jeffery and live in reality with our men, say aye."  
Two or three 'ayes' were called out from the court.  
"All those in favour of conquering the sector?"  
This time the answer was deafening.  
"I think we've reached a decision," Laurette said with a nasty smile.

Reality

Prefect Lashette had found her goal, a control center just within the Matrian computer core. Blowing a layer of dust off the controls, she started tapping at the console.  
Several minutes later, she pounded the console in frustration. Dreamland was meant to be shut down from the inside. There was an emergency shut down, but it was heavily encoded. There was no way she could access it without months of hacking.  
Lashette searched the room until she found what she was looking for: a heavy steel wrench. Swinging it like a baseball bat, she started her own shutdown procedures.

Dreamland

Everybody in the chamber looked up as the chamber shook. Patches of walls started wavering while pictures and statues flickered in and out like poorly tuned holograms.  
"No," Laurette said softly, turning to Stafford, "What have your people done? The Dream Nexus is shutting down! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"  
"I don't know!" Stafford jabbered, "I've been here, I didn't do anything!"  
The throne room shook again, several of women in the room vanishing. Those who had been near them screamed in fear.  
"No!" one screamed, "I won't go back! You can't make me go back!"  
Jeffery blinked and looked around.  
"Where the hell am I?" he asked.  
"Damn!" snapped Laurette, turning to one of her lieutenants and snapping orders, momentarily forgetting the Starfleet officers.  
"Dreamland is shutting down," Wowryk said to Stafford and Sylvia, "The Matrians are being retuned to the real world. All I can sense is that the system has been damaged."  
"Was it Noonan?" Stafford asked.  
"I can't tell," Wowryk said, " All I know is, this place is shutting down."  
"And you need to get out!" Krissy broke in.  
"Huh?"  
"Your bodies are back on your ship! You came in from another Dreamland, the one generated by the Dream Machine on your ship! If you're not back there when the Nexus shuts down, you'll be trapped in the system when it shuts down!"  
"What about you?" Stafford asked.  
Krissy smiled.  
"We'll be fine. Thank you for your help. Now take your man and go! I'll take care of Laurette."  
Stafford bolted over to Jeffery and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him towards the exit while Wowryk and Sylvia tried to conjure up a distraction for Laurette. Unfortunately, the dream reality was no longer taking orders. Nothing happened. But, on the plus side, nothing happened when Laurette tried to incinerate the retreating officers either.

Reality

As Lashette walked out of the control room she found herself face to face with Noonan.  
"Are you finished?" he asked.  
"Yes," she said, "the Dreamland is falling apart, and the SIDs are shutting down. My people will be free in moments. If you're going to arrest me for violating 'Starfleet regulations' then fine! It's a small price to pay."  
"I don't intend to arrest you," Noonan said, "But I suggest we retrieve Jeffery as soon as he is awake and then make a swift exit."

Dreamland (what's left of it)

The sky of Dreamland, which had been a sunny blue for over a century, was a seething soup of thick, black clouds. Viscous bolts of lightening ripped into the ground, destroying the buildings and sending the inhabitants running, even as they vanished from Dreamland and awoke in reality. Stafford, Wowryk and Sylvia had made to the edge of the city, to the portal to Silverado's tiny Dreamland. Sylvia immediately jumped  
"Noel!" Stafford shouted as he and Wowryk dragged Jeffery's semi-aware body to the edge of the portal.  
"What?"  
"NOEL!"  
"WHAT?"  
Stafford dropped his side of Jeffery.  
"You need to send him out!"  
"What?"  
"Look," Stafford said, "Jeffery's body is on Matria Prime! You've got to wake him up now!"  
"But he'll be trapped there!" Wowryk cried.  
"No! Noonan's there to rescue him! He's waiting right now!"  
"You can't possibly know that!" Wowryk shouted over the howling wind, "What if he didn't make it? What if he was attacked? What if he couldn't find Jeffery?"  
"Look, Noel, if you're going to trust me on anything, trust me on this! Matthew Noonan is the smartest f**king officer I've got! He's there. If Jeffery's not in THIS Dreamland when he wakes up, he's as good as dead!"  
Wowryk swallowed as she looked at Jeffery. Stafford stepped through the portal, then turned to watch as Wowryk kissed Jeffery gently on the cheek before closing her eyes and concentrating. Jeffery flickered in and out, but didn't disappear.  
"It's not working!" she cried, "The system isn't responding!"  
"Look, try from here," Stafford cried, "We can't risk losing you! "  
"No! Not until I know he's safe!"  
"Get over here!" Stafford snapped, "That's an order!" he reached over to grab Wowryk's arm, pulling her through.

Reality

As the central Dream Nexus of Matria Prime continued it's shutdown/crash, it sought to terminate it's connections with all of the SIDs making up the Matrian network. Thousands of the devices disconnected from the central Nexus, holding their occupants briefly in separate realities as the SIDs themselves failed.  
But one SID wasn't responding. Somebody was halfway through transit between the Nexus and the SID. Safetly protocols prevented the SID from shutting down until the transit was complete, but no safety protocol could slow the rapid crash of the Nexus. As the two systems became disjointed, data was misrouted and vital control lines crossed.

Noonan watched with relief as Jeffery's body drew in a deep breath.  
"He's unhooked, let's get out of here!"  
Hoisting Jeffery in a fireman's carry, Noonan led Lashette towards the exit. Around them they could hear the hiss of the suspended animation pods opening, and the groans as the Matrians emerged after over a century. They rode the lift to the surface where a confused crowd of men was forming at the entrance of the complex.  
"Noonan to Pysterzykz. Three to beam up."

"That's it, shields are down!" Stern called out, as sparks flew from the console. 1 Matrian cruiser was still left, along with 2 scouts and several patrol craft. The Klitor drifted to port, a crippled hulk. The Charger and the Camero had barely made it back to the shuttlebays, both heavily damaged. Silverado herself had held up better then expected, with the only severe damage being caused by the collision with the Matrian vessel. But main power was down, several key systems had been damaged and with the shields now completely down it was only a matter of time. The Matrian ships, having learned from the battle at Senous, knew enough to stay out the phaser cannon's line of fire which left Stern fighting with conventional weapons only, with only the occasional shot from the much more powerful cannon.  
"The SID is down!" Burke called up, "Computer core functions are returning to normal! We're good to go!"  
The ship shook again.  
"Warp drive is offline," Pye called out.  
"That's it," Stern called out, "we're dead. Nice knowing you everybody."  
"Yeah. Happy honorable death, as Pysterzykz would say."  
The death blow never arrived.  
"We're being hailed," Burke announced in surprise.  
"Let's here it," Stern said.  
"Unidentified vessel, this is Jecok 34…I mean, this is Chrenzor of the planet Senous. What the hell is going on?"  
Stern and Pye exchanged relieved glances.  
"How about we all disarm our weapons and talk about it?"

"Wake up, Lieutenant,"  
Wowryk shielded her eyes against the light. Her arms felt heavy, and she had the worst case of morning mouth she had ever had.  
"Are we out?" she asked.  
"Yeah," crewman Shwaluk said, "you're out. The Matrian ships are standing down, now that their crews know who they really are. Noonan's on his way back with Jeffery.  
"Ah'm right here,"  
It was Jeffery's accent, but it wasn't his voice. Wowryk frowned. In fact, it sounded like her voice!  
"Did I say…" she trailed off. Her voice had become deeper, stranger.  
"Lieutenant Jall, are you OK?"  
"Jall?"  
Worwyk's hand shot to her chest, which was perfectly flat. Her breasts were gone! Her hand shot immediately to her groin, where a new addition had taken up residence.  
"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Captain's Log, Stardate 56410.9

"Good news: we've finally learned once and for all who the f**king Mistresses/Matrians are, what they wanted, who they wanted, what their plan was and all that bullshit. We've also rescued Jeffery from them and apparently changed the course of Matrian society. With the Nexus destroyed and the SID network shorted out, it looks like they're going to have to try their original plan again. Hopefully, all goes well. The Matrian warships are now ferrying Senousian captives back to Senous."  
"Bad news, Part One: Prefect Lashette smashed the Prime Directive to shreds by destroying the Matrian Nexus. Of course, since she's not part of Starfleet she's not held to our rules. Still, Starfleet is sure to feel that Noonan could have done more to stop her, even though her actions saved us all."  
"Bad news, Part Two: Silverado's taken two beatings now in two days. The saucer section looks like a Frisbee after the St. Bernard has finished chewing on it, we've lost two phaser arrays, our port nacelle is a mess and it's going to take us months to limp back to Federation space for repairs. But she's holding together."  
"Bad news, Part Three: Oh boy, where to begin. If Starfleet gave us a hard time for playing Musical Chairs with our bridge console functions, what are they going to say about this?"

"Ew! Ew! It's growing again! Get if off me! Get it off!" Jall's body cried as Wowryk's mind again reacted to its new home.  
"You think that's growing?" Jall said from T'Parief's body, "You won't believe what this guy's packing!"  
"Can we please change the subject?" Stafford snapped, "I'm sure getting new genitelia is very exciting, but I really don't want to hear about it!" He had been lucky enough to end up in Jeffery's body, and although he found it really annoying to suddenly be half a foot shorter, nothing else had really changed.  
"Scientifically, this is fascinating," Fifebee said. She was still in her own body, as were Noonan, Sylvia and any crewmen who had not been hooked into the SID.  
"It's happened before," Yanick said from Stafford's body, where she had his feet up on the table. She was working to paint the toenails a bright pink.  
"Yes, but never like this. Plus, the other crews had an obvious way to correct the situation. We don't"  
"Thanks so much for the encouragement" Stafford/Jeffery groaned, "And Trish, please stop painting my toenails! I want my body back, you know!"  
"Oh, but I LIKE being tall for once!" Yanick whined.  
"Um, did Ah mention thanks for saving me?" Jeffery piped up from Wowryk's body, "And ye all did such a good job of it, too."  
"If it weren't for you, this wouldn't have happened!" Jall/T'Parief snapped.  
"I was being sincere!" Jeffery/Wowryk objected, "Sorry if it sounded sarcastic!"  
Stafford blew out a long breath.  
"I think we can agree that a return to Federation space is our best bet. We'll take the SIDs we have with us, see if we can use them to get back to the way we should be. If that doesn't work, there are a few other possibilities we could try."  
"Indeed," Fifebee piped up, "The Vulcan ritual of Fal-tor-pan could possibly be adapted to fit our needs. Also, there are-"  
"Thank you," Stafford said, "We get the picture. Trish, take us back to Federation space. Warp," Stafford looked around the table for Jeffery. Realizing that he was, for the moment, Jeffery, he quickly located Wowryk's body. Jeffery held up three of Wowryk's slim fingers.  
"Warp 3," Stafford finished

Stafford/Jeffery rang to chime to Noonan's quarters.  
"Come" Noonan called.  
Stafford stepped in, looking around. The room was artfully decorated in dark colors, with the occasional deep red or blue thrown in for contrast. Noonan sat on his couch, looking out the window and sipping a glass of what looked to Stafford like wine.  
Stafford walked slowly along the wall, picking up a small iron sculpture of a squirrel.  
"I wanted to talk to you, off the record," Stafford said, "I just finished reading your report."  
"And you had some questions?" Noonan said smoothly, still looking out the window.  
"Something like that," Stafford said. He drew back the squirrel and hurtled it at Noonan with all his might. Noonan's arm snapped out, catching the sculpture effortlessly.  
"It seems really strange," Stafford said, "that somebody with your seemingly inhuman reflexes and reaction time couldn't stop Lashette from taking the transporter beacon you were using as a defense against the SIDs. It seems even stranger that removing it would have any effect, seeing as how you're immune and all that."  
"It does seem strange, doesn't it?" Noonand said with a slight smile.  
"You pretended. You knew what she would do, and you allowed it."  
"I did. Do you have an objection?"  
Stafford thought for a moment.  
"No. But you do realize that your actions have changed the course of an entire civilization."  
"From what I understand, Lashette's actions, not mine, set that civilization back on it's original course and saved this sector from war."  
"That's what my report's going to say, anyway," Stafford said, "That is, if Sylvia can stop forcing fussing over me long enough for me to finish it!"  
"The two of you have resolved your differences?" Noonan asked.  
"My next stop."

Stafford stepped into Holodeck One, finding himself in an exact replica of his childhood home. He could even smell dinner cooking in the kitchen.  
"OK, you may as well come out, I know you're in here!"  
"Hello, Chris," Sylvia said from behind him.  
"Um, hi." Stafford said, "Look, um-"  
"Thank you," Sylvia cut him off.  
"For what?  
"Back in the Matrian throne room. You called me an 'artificial being', rather than a computer or a malfunction."  
"I did?"  
"Yes, and you didn't even think about it. That's more of an apology to me than anything you could say now."  
"You have to realize, I can never think of you as my mother, or love you the same way…"  
"I know," Sylvia said, "I don't really understand who I am anymore. The only reason I acted like your mother was because Jall programmed me to-"  
"It WAS him! That little-"  
"-but I can work past that now," Sylvia continued, "It may take some time, but I'm going to develop my own identity."  
"You and Fifebee will get along great," Stafford said with a chuckle.  
"We're going for coffee late today," Sylvia said with a grin, "Well, neither of us drinks coffee, but you know what I mean."  
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Um, I guess I'll be going now." He turned to leave.  
"Chris?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I wanted to thank you. And Jeffery, and the rest of the crew. For fixing me up, giving me a second chance. Well, not really me, but my physical form anyway. A ship is meant to carry her crew on their journey, and you all saved me from spending the rest of my 'life' rotting in a junkyard."  
"This mission, this whole 'Operation Salvage' thing, wasn't our idea," Stafford said, "But you're welcome. And yeah, I think, despite everything, we're all proud to be a part of it."

End

That's it! The end of Silverado, Season 1! And yes, there WILL be Season 2! Stay tuned for Silverado Book 1: Intermission, coming soon to a Nexus near you!


	17. Intermission

Author's note: This double-length chapter was originally posted separately from Silverado Season One over on the Nexus. But since it continues the storyline, I'm including it here as the final chapter of Season One.

Characters will be referred to using their actual names and genders, even though the gender of the body they currently inhabit is likely different. If I feel it appropriate to remind you of who's in what body, I'll generally use the Mind/Body format. IE, for Wowryk, who is currently in Jall's body, I would write Wowryk/Jall.

I hope this makes sense!

Star Traks Silverado, Book 1

"Intermission"

Part One: Epilogue

Author's note: This book takes place immediately after the events of Silverado 1.16, 'Catfight'. If you haven't read that story, this one will make no sense. If you have read that story, it's going to be confusing anyway, so here's the deal:  
Characters will be referred to using their actual names and genders, even though the gender of the body they currently inhabit is likely different. If I feel it appropriate to remind you of who's in what body, I'll generally use the Mind/Body format. IE, for Wowryk, who is currently in Jall's body, I would write Wowryk/Jall.  
I hope this makes sense!

Captain Christopher Stafford strode onto the Silverado bridge, glancing around uneasily. To the casual eye, it looked as though the entire bridge crew had switched positions; Yanick was at the Tactical console, straining on tippy-toes to see the display. T'Parief was manning Operations from an Auxiliary Console while Stafford sat at the helm reading "Richard Simmond's Guide to Goulash!"  
The actual Stafford, that is, the body in which Stafford's mind was currently trapped, walked over to the command chair to sit down. At least that was the plan. Misjudging the distance between his backside and his seat, Stafford/Jeffery missed the chair by several inches, crashing to the floor.  
"God DAMN Jeffery's short, stubby legs!" he cursed loudly, fuming as his own body, currently possessed by Ensign Trish Yanick, gave out a girlish giggle.  
"Hee hee," she giggled, "you fell!"  
"Yes, I f**king fell!" Stafford/Jeffery snapped, "I hate being stuck in Jeffery's body!"  
"You think you have it bad?" T'Parief/Yanick snapped back, "Look at the change I've made!"  
"You've gotta admit," Jall/T'Parief said to Stafford/Jeffery from T'Parief's body, "at least you're still a man! Poor lizard boy has gone from being Mr. Butch to being Miss Frilly-Panties.  
"I am NOT wearing woman's underwear!" T'Parief/Yanick snapped angrily, gripping the Tactical rail.  
"Y'know," Jall/T'Parief said to himself, casually examining the claws his new body possessed, "somehow, I just don't find you intimidating anymore!"  
"Yanick," Stafford said, "please tell me you're wearing men's underwear under there?"  
"Why, I don't think it's appropriate for you to be asking me that, Captain!" Yanick/Stafford grinned, a playful glint in her eye.  
"Oh no!" Stafford shouted, jumping to his feet, "I don't care who's mind is in it, frilly under-things do NOT touch the Little Captain!"  
"Little Captain?" Jall burst out laughing, causing Stafford to blush dark red.  
"I just didn't want to say the actual word on the bridge, OK?" he grumbled.  
"What word?" Yanick asked, "You mean penis?"  
"Yuck! Don't say that!" Stafford cried.  
"Say what?" Yanick giggled, moving 'her' hand closer to 'her' groin, "penis?"  
"Shut up! Shut up!" Stafford was cringing in the command chair now.  
"Oh look," Yanick pulled the waistband of her underwear up from her uniform trousers, revealing frilly white panties with red hearts, "it looks like there's ladies underwear touching your PENIS!"  
"AHHHHH!" Stafford yelled, running for his ready room.  
"Are we there yet?" T'Parief sighed as Yanick and Jall exchanged high-fives.

Dr. Wowryk/Jall was pacing back and forth in Sickbay, trying hard not to scream. The past day had been a complete nightmare! Fighting the Matrians and rescuing Jeffery had seemed like such big deals at the time, but they paled in comparison to her current dilemma.  
She was a man.  
No! She was a woman trapped in the body of a man! The single most annoying man on the ship: San Jall. She had known that men were pigs, but she had no idea how strong their biological urges were! Just looking at Crewman Setko (currently housing the mind of Nurse Veeneman) made her heart beat and her palms sweat. Nobody else was in Sickbay. She could just walk over to Kerry/Setko, push him against the wall and-  
Wowryk screamed in disgust as San's genitlia quickly became excited by the thought.  
"Oh GOD!" she screamed, running frantically for her office, "Make it stop! YUCK! YUCK!"

Nurse Veeneman sighed, trying to ignore the sounds of Wowryk's frantic praying coming from her office. She turned as Nurse Kerry walked in from the morgue.  
"You don't see me throwing fits like that!" she complained.  
"Yes, but you LIKE guys," Kerry chuckled.  
"That doesn't mean I like being one!"  
"Point taken. "  
Dr. Wowryk returned.  
"I can't take this anymore!" she wailed.  
Nurse Kerry shot an evil look towards Nurse Veeneman, then moved closer to Wowryk/Jall.  
"What's the matter, big boy," she breathed, "can't handle this much woman?' Kerry's breasts were soon pushing up against Wowryk's chest.  
Wowryk blinked.  
"Wow," she said, "that just drove all the filthy urges right out of me! Thank you SO much!" she hugged Kerry tightly than went back to work, a smile on her face.  
"That's funny," Kerry said, "that usually drive guys up the wall. I wonder what the problem with him…uh, her is?  
"Oh, who the hell cares!?"

Simon Jeffery, trapped in the body of Noel Wowryk, climbed down from the upper level of Main Engineering down to the main deck.  
"Frit, Ah need those nacelle pylon stress readouts ASAP!" he cried out, "Frat, Ah still want hourly status reports on those damaged warp coils! Frek, Ah want…Ah want….um….ohhhh" Jeffery paused, catching the reflection of his/Wowryk's body in the magnetic constrictor control console.  
"There he goes again," sighed Frit, "Frek, go give him a smack!"  
Frek walked over to Jeffery.  
"Do I have to say the words?"  
"It's his orders," Frit pointed out.  
Frek sighed, then slapped Jeffery half-heartedly across the face.  
"Perverted, atheist hethen," he said flatly.  
"That's heathen!" Frit hissed. But Jeffery was already shaking his head, tearing his gaze away from the reflection of Dr. Wowryk's body in the display panel.  
"Thanks, Frek," Jeffery gulped, fighting the urge to look down at Wowryk's cleavage.  
"I don't understand," Frek said, "You've got the opportunity of a lifetime! You're in your girlfriend's body! You can do anything you want with her!"  
"Ah'll do no such thing!" Jeffery said firmly, "This is her body, and Ah have to respect her wishes!" He lowered his voice, "And Ah gotta admit, the longer Ah'm trapped in a woman's body, the less women interest me."  
"Thinking of joining the other team?" Frek asked with a grin.  
Jeffery shuddered, then pulled Wowryk's hair away from his/her face.  
"Ah could never do that. Better to just give up on sex all together."  
"You've definitely been in Wowryk's body a bit too long," Frek said worriedly  
"Ah miss my manhood!" Jeffery wailed, tears flowing from his/her eyes.  
This time when Frek reached up to smack Jeffery/Wowryk, it was genuine.  
"Snap out of it! You're acting like an emotional chick!" he snapped.  
"Watch it!" Frit called out.  
Jeffery/Wowryk struggled to rein in his/her tears.  
"Now, are you ready to do that structural integrity field diagnostic? Frek asked.  
Jeffery nodded.  
"Good. I bet talking to Sylvia will cheer you up."  
Jeffery sighed.  
"Ah dunno, she still kinda gives me the creeps!"  
Frek and Jeffery walked over to the Master Systems panel.  
"Um, Sylvia?" Jeffery asked timidly.  
One corner of the panel changed to display the smiling face of a middle-aged woman with shortish blond hair. She smiled at Jeffery.  
"Hello Simon!" said Silvia, the now-sentient main computer of the Silverado, "What can I do for you today?"  
"Um, we need to run a Level 2 diagnostic on the SIF generators. Please."  
"Sure!" Sylvia smiled, "I'll get started right on that. You wanna initialize the diagnostic sub-routines out there?"  
"I know the procedure," Frek grumbled.  
"Be polite to the nice computer," Jeffery said nervously, "don't make her mad."  
"Oh Simon, relax!" chuckled Sylvia.  
"Ya hafta admit," Jeffery said, "not many Chief Engineers have to deal with a ship that talks back!"  
"That's not really true," Sylvia piped in, "Ships ALWAYS talk back. But now, instead of getting an annoying error message repeated over and over again, you'll have me here to help you out with whatever problems you have."  
Jeffery considered that for a moment.  
"Ah can see that how that could be an advantage," he admitted.  
"Good. Then I suggest you switch SIF generator 3 to backups and do a complete refurbishment before the entire starboard saucer crumples like a tin can."

Back in his ready room, Stafford was staring at the bathroom. He really had to go. REALLY had to go. He hadn't taken a whiz in over a day. Because to do so would mean touching Jeffery's body in places he really didn't want to go.  
"Captain," it was T'Parief's deep voice on the comm channel, but the flippant tone was 100% Jall, "Priority One message coming in from Starfleet Command."  
"Oh, so now they the want to talk!" Stafford grunted, "pipe the overblown gasbag into my ready room."  
"I'm already online," snapped Admiral Edward Tunney from Stafford's terminal.  
"Oh…" Stafford trailed off, "How much of that did you hear?"  
"All of it."  
"Well, um, fortunately I'm not really Captain Stafford! Yeah. I'm, uh Simon Jeffery," Stafford tried to mimic Jeffery's accent, "Ah'm just waitin' for the Captain."  
"Give it a rest, Stafford," Tunney snapped, "I've already read the report on your little body-switching escapade."  
"Oh."  
Tunney sighed.  
"OK, let's get this over with. First off, Starfleet is pleased with your performance in the whole Matrian thing. You've ended a threat to Federation security, however minor, and freed thousands of slaves. Good work."  
Stafford blinked.  
"Soo," he said, "Starfleet admits that the Matrians were a threat from the beginning and that they were wrong from the very start?"  
"Wrong about what?" Tunney sighed again.  
"The whole Matrian thing! Admiral Grant didn't believe us when the first SID sent everybody into Dreamland! And after the other two ships were attacked, you decided that the Matrians were just 'trying to communicate' and that we shouldn't bother them! Well, sorry Admiral, but it turned out they were a hostile race ruled by a despotic leader that had aspirations of galactic domination! We TOLD YOU they were dangerous right from the start! AND YOU DIDN'T LISTEN!"  
"And your point, Captain?" Tunney said calmly.  
"I want an apology!"  
"Starfleet Command does not apologize for being cautious." Tunney replied.  
"Cautious? CAUTOUS!?" Stafford screamed, "If you were being so damned cautious, you would have sent more than one ship out here the minute we found out Matrian space was so close! You would have sent an official Ambassador to Senous to address their plea for help! You weren't being cautious; you just wanted us out of the way!"  
"Are you finished?" Tunney asked.  
"NO! I-"  
"Good." Tunney cut him off, "Your orders are to proceed to Matria Prime to provide a Federation presence as the political situation stabilizes."  
Stafford stared blankly at the screen.  
"What? We just left Matria!" he finally said.  
"You shouldn't have," Tunney said pointedly, "after having the kind of impact on their society that you've had, which, by the way, is a borderline Prime Directive violation, you should have stayed there to await further orders!"  
"We're in no shape to stay out here!" Stafford objected, "The ship's smashed, it's gonna take us months to get home, and this whole body-switching thing is getting old fast!"  
Tunney fought hard to hold back a chuckle.  
"I, uh, hear your Chief Engineer is stuck in his girlfriend's body," he said with a grin, "How's that working out for him?"  
"She's making him wear a blindfold in the shower, so he can't see her body naked," Stafford said flatly.  
"Have fun with that," Tunney said. His grin faded. "The starship Wasagaming is en route to you at high warp. Ambassador Owens is aboard. They'll be at Matria Prime in three weeks."  
"Why are you sending an ambassador to Matria?" Stafford asked.  
"To address the Matrian and Senousian applications for Federation membership."  
"WHAT?"  
"Newly appointed Queen Anselia and the Matrian Council of Governors have put in a request for Federation Membership. So have Prefect Telfidi and the Ruling Council of Senous."  
"You can't seriously be thinking about letting the Matrians into the Federation!" Stafford said, "They're power-mad dictators!"  
"As I recall from your report," Tunney said, "They originally had a very fair, reasonable plan in mind. It was only under the influence of Mistress Laurette that they started their aggressive behavior."  
"Yeah, but-"  
"There's no discussion here, Captain," Tunney said, "You are to hold station in the Matrian system until the Wasagaming arrives. Keep an eye on how things are developing on Matria and Senous."  
"But the ship-"  
"We've got you booked into a priority berth at the Deneria Dry Docks. Once the Wasagaming arrives, you'll proceed to Deneria for repairs, with a brief stopover at Waystation."  
"But-"  
"I'm sure your engineers will do all they can to effect repairs during your stay at Matria."  
"But-"  
"Any questions?"  
"Yes, I-"  
"Good. Keep up the good work, Captain." Tunney's face vanished, replaced by the 'End Transmission' logo.  
"That jerk," Stafford muttered.

Commander Noonan sat back in his chair, having finished his inspection of Stellar Cartography. The crewmembers down there were having a great time, charting the unexplored region of space Silverado was in. Their enthusiasm was only slightly dampened by the fact that several of them were in the wrong bodies.  
Stafford stepped on to the bridge and sat in his chair, biting his lip and crossing his legs.  
"Still not able to pee, sir?" Noonan asked with a smile.  
"Shut up," Stafford growled.  
"What, can't go to the can?" Jall/T'Parief laughed, "why not?"  
"There's no problem." Stafford said firmly.  
"I think," Yanick/Stafford said, facing the screen, "that Chris is scared to go to the bathroom 'cuz it would mean touching Jeffery's penis!"  
"STOP SAYING THAT!" Stafford shouted.  
"Really Captain," Noonan said, "in this day and age we're supposed to be above such things!"  
"You can't hold it forever," T'Parief/Yanick said with a grin.  
"Yes I can!"  
"The important thing," Fifebee piped in, "is to avoid thinking about running water. Waterfalls, rivers, the fountain in the arboretum-"  
"YOU ALL SUCK!" Stafford shouted, running for the bathroom, "COMPUTER! I NEED A PAIR OF RUBBER GLOVES, STAT!"  
"The name's Sylvia, buster!"

A few minutes later, Stafford returned to the bridge.  
"That," he said quietly, "was not fun."  
There were assorted chuckles and guffaws from the bridge crew.  
"Laugh all you want!" he snapped, then turned to T'Parief/Yanick, "Don't forget that Jall's gotta go sometime too!"  
T'Parief immediately stopped laughing.  
"Oh, I so don't wanna do this," Stafford groaned, "Ensign Yanick, turn us around. Set course for Matrian space."  
"HUH?"  
"We've been ordered back to the Matrian system to keep an eye on the situation there until the U.S.S. Wasagaming arrives."  
The response was unanimous.  
"AW, F**K!"

Part Two: 'Interlude'

Noonan and Jeffery sat in the conference room while Sylvia watched from the wall panel. Stafford had declined to be present, claiming he knew enough about the ship's status already. Noonan however wanted to be up to date. He also found the combination of Jeffery's accent and Wowryk's voice to be particularly amusing.  
"We have 7 minor hull breaches still open," Jeffery/Wowryk was saying, "not counting the big chunk missing where the starboard airlock used to be. We can't seal up the breaches at warp and since those sections have been closed off anyway, we were just gonna wait until we got home to fix them."  
Sylvia took this opportunity to speak up.  
"We've also got micro-fractures in 10 sections and 2 of the SIF generators need to be rebuilt!"  
"Yeah," Jeffery muttered, "That too."  
"I see. And the damaged phaser arrays?"  
Jeffery chuckled.  
'They're not damaged. They're GONE. Rebuilding them isn't an option; we need new phaser strips installed."  
"But you will be able to repair the hull while we are in the Matrian system."  
"Aye, most of it. But ye should know that 3 of the warp coils in the port nacelle can't be repaired without a starbase. They need to be completely rebuilt."  
"So even with repair time at Matria, we won't be able to exceed Warp 3 on our trip home."  
"Nope. I can give you Warp 4 for a short time, but with the damage to the coils and the plasma grills, it won't take long for plasma leakage to start eating the nacelle from the inside out."  
"And I'm against that!" Sylvia said vehemently.  
"Sylvia, would you excuse us for a moment?" Noonan asked calmly.  
"Of course." Sylvia vanished.  
Noonan stood near the window.  
"How is your staff reacting to the computer's new…personality?"  
"They've had some time to get used to it, she's been acting mom-ish for months," Jeffery said.  
"I sense a 'but'."  
"Sorry, Ah had beans for lunch."  
Noonan looked blankly at Jeffery for a second.  
"But. Not 'butt'."  
"Oh. Aye. But. Well, it's weird, y'know? Ah mean, suddenly it's like I'm treating a patient rather then a starship! Most of my staff doesn't have what ye'd call a bedside manner."  
"How fitting then that you currently wear the body of our doctor."  
"Har-de-har-har." Jeffery groaned, "Seriously, Ah don't think this is good. How do we know what she will and will not do? If we're captured by evil aliens and Chris calls for an auto-destruct, would she do it?"  
"She is constrained by the limitations of the computer's programming."  
"Aye, for now. But there are very good reasons for WHY Starfleet has taken great pains to prevent this from happening. It's dangerous to give a computer this much power. Haven't you ever watched 'The Terminator' or 'The Matrix'?  
"What then do you suggest?" Noonan asked cautiously.  
"Get rid of her. Yank that gel-pack out of the computer core and ship it to the Daystrom Institute. Express delivery."  
"That is a definite option. But what if she does not wish to go? She is clearly a sentient being, and thus we cannot force her to be submitted to being studied in a laboratory."  
"Ah know. But at the very least, we have to set some limits with her!"  
"Very well. I will speak to the Captain."  
"Speak loudly," Jeffery advised.  
"Why do you say that?" Noonan asked.  
"'Cuz Ah think he's getting to used to having her around. He's always been a momma's boy deep down."  
"I will take that under advisement."

Stafford sat with Jeffery, Jall, Yanick, T'Parief and Fifebee in Unbalanced Equations. Their goal? Get seriously drunk.  
They'd done a lot of that since boarding Silverado, Stafford thought to himself, but at least this was quiet, companionable drinking. Nobody would be having their drinks switched, nobody would end up injured or in the brig and hopefully nobody would grow extra breasts this time around.  
"I will admit," T'Parief/Yanick muttered, downing a Paralyzer, "My synthehol tolerance is much better in Yanick's body than it was in my own."  
Jall/T'Parief giggled insanely.  
"I, hee-hee, see now, ha-ha, why you never could giggle drink without falling over!" he laughed.  
T'Parief glared at Jall. Yanick put a comforting arm around his shoulders. T'Parief immediately jerked away nearly tipping his chair.  
"What?" Yanick asked, looking very hurt.  
"I don't want him touching me!" he snarled.  
"But it's ME!" Yanick wailed, tears spilling down her cheeks.  
"I'm sorry," T'Parief said as gently as he could, "but you must understand why I would object to having that man's arm around me! No offense, Captain."  
"Well, if I can deal with putting my arm around a woman…" Yanick started.  
"Talk about seeing things from a different perspective," Stafford muttered to Jeffery.  
"Shut up! At least ye haven't switched genders too! The rest of us are kinda havin' a hard time of it!"  
"You think you've got it bad? I can barely pee! Never mind how I'm supposed to…uh, relieve tension without thinking I'm gay or something!?"  
Jeffery eyes widened as he gasped in shock. On Wowryk's face, it was a surprisingly familiar expression.  
"Don't ye even THINK of-"  
"This isn't easy for me either-" Yanick snapped at T'Parief.  
"All I'm saying is-" objected T'Parief.  
"Do I, heh-heh, get any say in this?" slurred Jall, "I mean, if you want some lovin' Trish, I can take care of that right now!"  
"DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING MY BODY YOU PERVERT!" Stafford roared.  
"This is fascinating from so many different aspects, " Fifebee giggled.  
"How am I supposed to date you if I can't even touch you?" Yanick cried.  
"Hey! Cut that out!" Stafford shouted, "If anybody sees my body crying-"  
"She's upset, Captain! Show some f**king sympathy!"  
"Screw sympathy!" snapped Jeffery, flopping down in his chair, "My girlfriend won't let me touch her anyway, so why the hell should Ah feel sorry for ye?"  
"You will address her with respect, little woman!" T'Parief growled, moving menacingly towards Jeffery. At least he tried to. A short, pretty blond girl doesn't have the same impact as a 7-foot tall lizard.  
"Bring it on!" Jeffery/Wowryk snapped.  
"ALL RIGHT, STOP IT!" Stafford screamed, "We are professional Starfleet officers and I will not have us reduced to a pack of bar brawling savages! Now sit down and drink your f**king drinks and for God's sake try to be happy over the fact that at least we're alive and together!"  
There were grumblings and muttered apologies as everybody sat. Jall continued to look around in a drunken stupor.  
Dr. Wowryk walked into the lounge, just finishing her Sickbay shift, a shiny blinking gizmo attached to her belt.  
"Hi Doc," Stafford said, trying to force cheerfulness and failing, "what's that thing?"  
"Oh, it's a meiosis inhibitor."  
"Come again?"  
"It represses the functioning of…of certain body parts to reduce hormone production and cut down on the disgusting urges this FILTHY MALE BODY FEELS!"  
"Oh,"  
"Hey?" Jall slurred, "Whadoyatink yer doin' messin' around with my body?"  
"Relax, heathen, it'll be fine when you get it back!" She started running her tricorder over Jeffery.  
"What are you doing, Doctor?" Fifebee asked, curious.  
"Checking for fingerprints."  
"I see," Fifebee thought for a moment, "Has there been a crime?"  
"Maybe. Only if Simon was touching himself in places he shouldn't. AH-HAH!" Wowryk snapped, pointing a damning finger at Jeffery.  
"What? I didn't do anything!"  
"There! Right below the left breast! One of MY, uh, YOUR fingerprints!"  
"But I didn't-" Jeffery stammered.  
"YOU FILTY PIG!" Wowryk/Jall slapped Jeffery across the face.  
Typically, a Noel Wowryk slap would sting a little and remind the offending man that messing with the Doctor meant trouble. What Noel hadn't counted on was having a man's upper body strength. Jeffery/Wowryk's head snapped to the side as blood starting spilling from a split lip.  
"Oh dear," Fifebee sighed, "here we go again."  
"What do you think you're doing?" Stafford snapped, pushing Wowryk/Jall away from Jeffery/Wowryk.  
"But he-"  
"Captain, watch out!" T'Parief called.  
Stafford turned just in time to see Jeffery jumping towards Wowryk. T'Parief lunged, catching him below the knees and sending him crashing into Stafford, who fell back onto Yanick's lap. Jeffery kicked T'Parief off and lunged again for Wowryk, missed and hit Stafford/Jeffery square in the crotch. Stafford screamed in pain, pulling back to give Jeffery a good shot in the gut, hitting Yanick in the face with his elbow in the process and drawing cries of pain from both. Hearing Yanick in distress, T'Parief lunged straight at Stafford, pushing the table out of the way and sending Jall sprawling to the floor, still giggling drunkenly.  
"Steven to Security!," called out the bar manager in a panic, "Brawl in the lounge! Better bring some butterfly nets too!"

Yanick fought to open her eyes against a pounding headache. The last thing she remembered was pile-driving Stafford right before the sound of phaser fire. Forcing her eyes open, she found herself lying on a cot in the brig.  
"Oh, poo," she muttered, climbing unsteadily to her feet and failing to keep her balance. Damn Stafford and his long legs anyway! She could feel a throbbing pain in her/his nose, which had swollen considerably.  
"Am I dead?" croaked her own voice as T'Parief rolled over on the opposite bunk. Yanick was horrified by the bruises on her face and by the fact that T'Parief hadn't pulled back her hair before being knocked out…tufts of frizzy blond hair shot out from his head like straw.  
"No, but I think we're going to wish we were."  
"Rise and shine, little miscreants," called the pleasant voice of Matthew Noonan, "I hope everybody had a good night sleep."  
"F**k off," groaned Jall.  
"Ah'll second that," muttered Jeffery, his speech slurred by his swollen lip. Stafford was sprawled in the opposite bunk with a black eye.  
"I'm sure you're all eager to atone for your poor behavior, and so Fifebee and I have compiled a disciplinary plan to take effect-"  
"Take your padd and shove it," Stafford grumbled.  
Noonan raised an eyebrow.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Let me out. Now. These are extenuating circumstances. The only discipline we'll be having will be apologies all around. Then we're going to Sickbay."  
"Very well." Noonan gestured for Ensign Dar'ugal to drop the force field. Stafford stumbled over to Noonan, swiping the padd from his hands and reading the report that had already been completed.

DISCIPLINARY PLAN  
RE: LOUNGE BRAWL

PARTIPANTS:

CHRISTOPHER STAFFORD (CAPTAIN)  
SIMON JEFFERY (LT. CMDR)  
T'PARIEF (LT. CMDR)  
SAN JALL (LT.)  
TRISH YANICK (ENSIGN)  
NOEL WOWYK (DOCTOR)

ACTION: ABJECT APOLOGIES FROM ALL PARTICIPANTS.

(Signed)

COMMANDER MATTHEW NOONAN  
U.S.S. SILVERADO, NCC-135060

Stafford shook the padd menacingly in Noonan's face.  
"You! You…." He said slowly, "You're just weird."

"Next!" called Nurse Veeneman in a bored voice as Yanick/Stafford sat in the small waiting area.  
"Finally," Yanick muttered, getting up then taking a seat on the bio-bed.  
"Hold still!" Nurse Kerry was snapping at Jall/T'Parief as he sat with his mouth open, razor-sharp teeth glinting in the light.  
"Hey San," Yanick said, her voice slightly nasal due to her broken nose, "Whatcha doin' here? You were passed out for the whole ruckus last night!"  
"I know," Jall replied as Kerry pulled her hand out of his mouth to pick up a piece of equipment, "but I keep biting my tongue! F**king Gorn teeth-URK!"  
Kerry had pulled his lower jaw down and forced her hand back in.  
Yanick fought to sit still as Veeneman started running a bone knitter over her nose.  
"I hope Chris isn't pissed at me for breaking his body," she finally said, unable to keep quit.  
"Uh in aile," Jall replied, trying hard not to bite Nurse Kerry.  
"Yeah, I guess we're all really pissed about this. Y'know, I never realized how bad men smelled until I was trapped in this body,"  
"Eee on ell!"  
"You're right. As interesting as all this is, I just want my own body back. Do you think we'll figure out someway to do it?"  
Veeneman finished with Yanick's nose and started running a dermal regenerator over the bruisers.  
"A u ean unina ee?"  
"Yeah, all I can really do is hope that Fifebee can come up with something. I mean really, how hard can it be/"  
"Ur a ukin itch!"  
"Really? I dunno, I don't think this nail polish looks good at all. Something about the Captain's hands just doesn't go well with nail polish. But thanks for the compliment. "  
"All done," Veeneman reported.  
"Thanks!" Trish said, walked out, "Later Jall!"  
Kerry pulled her hand out of Jall's mouth.  
"I'm impressed," she said, "I couldn't understand a word you were saying. I wonder how Trish did it?"  
"She didn't," Jall smirked, "Otherwise she would have punched me when I called her a f**king bitch. Man, that woman loves to talk so much she doesn't even need anybody else to have a conversation!"

Part 3: 'Old Enemies, New Allies?'

Captain's Log, Stardate 56445.5  
"Against my better judgment, we've returned Matrian space. I'm completely and totally surprised to say that not much has changed in the few days we've been away. Totally shocked. Wow Starfleet, you sure were right about things changing here!"

"Sarcasm ill becomes you, Captain," Noonan said from his chair, a small grin on his face.  
"I think it becomes him very well," Jall chucked. He had moved permanently to one of the bridge's Auxiliary consoles as the standard Ops console left no room for T'Parief's tail.  
"Thanks, Lieutenant," Stafford said dryly.  
Silverado was hovering on the very border of Matrian space, her scanners reaching deep in to look carefully at the Matrian star system. Her hull was still breached in several sections including a bite-shaped chunk missing from the starboard saucer. The inner workings of the port nacelle were visible thanks to a missing section of the plasma grill. Her shields were up at full power though, and enough weapons remained functional to make her a match for any single ship the Matrians threw at them. Of course, another Matrian fleet would quickly reduce her back to scrap.  
"I'm picking up heavy traffic in and out of the Matrian system," Fifebee reported, "Mostly Matrian transports headed for Senous. I'm also picking up some Senousian ships and 2 types of vessels that we are not familiar with."  
"Other species the Matrians were enslaving, no doubt," Noonan said.  
"Quite possibly."  
"Tactical analysis, Mr. T'Parief."  
"There are still Matrian vessels patrolling the borders, however they appear to be undermanned at best. I am picking up several scouts and a few cruisers. More than a match for us if they were to join forces against us."  
"Let's hope we don't have to worry about that," Stafford said, trying to sound confident, "After all, we're here to assist 'potential Federation members'."  
"Yeah," Jall cracked, "And Starfleet's been such a great judge of character with these chicks so far. I'm sure everything will be JUST fine. Up until they decide they'd rather have us as submissive slaves!"  
"Jall, even though I completely agree, I will now berate you for insubordination," Stafford grinned, "Y'know, on general principal. So shut your yap!"  
"Grouch,"  
"Prick."  
"Ass."  
"Jerk."  
"Freak."  
"Ok, now it's getting weird," Stafford grunted, shifting in his seat, "All, right, let's do this the diplomatic way this time. Mr. Jall, hail the Matrian system and request permission to enter their space."  
"Gotcha. Dick-head."  
"You're pushing it."  
"We're getting a reply."  
"On screen."  
Once again the main viewscreen was filled with the head and upper body of yet another beautiful Matrian woman. This one had long, flowing red hair and bright green eyes. Lipstick was splattered across her lips while her eyeliner was smeared all over the bridge of her nose. Her hair looked dry and tangled, rather than soft and luxurious.  
Fortunately, this made it easier for the guys to control their hormones this time around, as opposed to the drool festival that had occurred when the Silverado had encountered the Senousians.  
"I am Queen Anselia of the Matrian Republic. You are most welcome to enter our space. We have a berth for you at Docking Station 1. Please accept our most sincere apologies over your last encounter here and our thanks for settings us back on the right track."  
Stafford and Noonan exchanged glances. This greeting was a little TOO warm.  
"Thank you, your Majesty," Stafford said, standing and straightening his uniform in the approved Starfleet style, "We appreciate your gracious invitation and hope that this will usher in an era of peaceful co-operation between our peoples."  
"Thank you, Captain. Matria Prime out."  
As soon as Anselia disappeared from the screen Stafford's pleasant expression did likewise. Jall and Yanick burst out laughing while T'Parief absorbed himself in his tactical scans.  
"Man what was she smoking when she did her lipstick?" Yanick forced out between giggles.  
"I know!" Jall gasped, "I could do better than that on any day!"  
"It does appear that a trained chimp would have better makeup skills than her," Fifebee said, "She's a mess."  
"Why aren't they pissed at us?" Stafford wanted to know, settling back in his command chair, "We did destroy their fantasy world."  
"Maybe they are," T'Parief grumbled, "We must remain vigilant."  
"Hah!" Jall broke into another fit of giggles.  
"What's so funny?" Fifebee wanted to know, "I'm pretty sure that vigilance would be a wise idea, and this crew is certainly capable of it!"  
"Oh, I know we are," Jall laughed, "I just thought it was funny seeing Trish, well, y'know Trish's body, using big words like 'vigilant!"  
"Hey!" Yanick objected, standing up and putter her hands on her hips, "like you're so erudite!"  
Everybody looked at Yanick blankly. Finally Stafford looked over to Fifebee.  
Fifebee gave a dramatic sigh.  
"It means," she said, "' having or showing profound knowledge'"  
"Oh," Yanick frowned, "I thought it meant 'liking to use big words,"  
"Same thing," Fifebee admitted.  
"Right," Stafford said, "Yanick, take my hands off my hips please. Try to look, I dunno, more manly while you're in my body."  
Everybody giggled.  
"What?"  
"Even YOU aren't particular manly in your body!" Jall cracked.  
"OK, y'know what? F**K YOU! Yanick, set a course for Matria Prime, Warp Two."  
"Gotcha!"

Silverado glided into orbit of Matria Prime. Things hadn't changed much around the war-torn planet. There were still several out-of-service space stations and derelict ships drifting in orbit and scans of the planet showed population concentrations on the few remaining mega-cities. The restored orbital facilities though were a buzz of activity with Matrian, Senousian and unidentified ships docking, loading passengers and departing only to return later for a fresh load. Thousands of former slaves were being sent home, now that the Matrian Empire had fallen. Most of them had little memory of their time spent under control of the SIDs. What memories that had were fading like, well, like bad dreams.  
Silverado eased into her 'berth'-nothing more than a single docking arm sticking out from the Matrian space dock complex.

"Stay alert," Stafford muttered to T'Parief, "The minute any ship makes an aggressive movement I want us away from that station with shields up and weapons hot."  
"I'll keep the energy cells for the pulse cannon charged," T'Parief replied.  
"Good call,"  
"Hail from the Queen," called Jall.  
Stafford sighed then forced his/Jeffery's face into a pleasant expression.  
"On screen."  
"Captain," Queen Anselia said, "I hope you've found your berth accommodating?"  
"Oh, it's fine," Stafford replied, "What can we do for you?"  
"We would like to invite you and your officers to a reception tomorrow evening. It is our hope to demonstrate that you no longer have anything to fear from us," the Queen replied.  
"Um, thank you," Stafford said, "We accept. In the meantime, could you send us a summary of what's been happening? It would help if we were more familiar with the situation."  
"Of course. Anselia out."  
"Fifebee, you and Jall will take a look at that data as soon as it comes in. Stafford to Jeffery."  
"Jeffery here," came the voice of Dr. Wowryk.  
"Simon, get one of the shuttlepods ready. Now that we have some time, let's take a closer look at the damage, shall we?"  
"Ah was just thinking the same thing."

Stafford jumped in the turbolift and asked to be taken to Shuttlebay 2. He was surprised slightly by the lack of vocal response from the computer, even though the turbolift itself moved into immediate action.  
"Sylvia?" he asked, "Are you there?"  
"Of course I'm here, Chris," came the reply, "Where else would I be?"  
"I, uh, dunno," he said, "it just seemed kinda quiet in here when you didn't say anything."  
"That's funny, I thought you found it annoying as hell when I kept 'butting in'," Silvia said pointedly.  
"Well, yeah," Stafford muttered, "But, y'know, now you're a member of the crew and not just a machine that Jall was messing around with."  
"Well, it's nice that you feel that way, Chris," Stafford could almost hear the smile in Sylvia's voice.  
"So," Stafford went on, "Keeping busy?"  
"Yup. Right now I'm responding to 24 different crew requests, 10 of which have turned into conversations regarding my well-being. I am also assisting with an SIF diagnostic, evaluating the feasibility of 3 of Lt. Fifebee's plans to return your all to your own bodies, converting sensor readings into mapping coordinates with Stellar Cartography, processing 12 replicator orders and compensating for the damage to the off-axis field controller in the port nacelle."  
"Busy lady," Stafford said, impressed.  
"I'm only doing about 23% of what I'm capable of."  
The turbolift doors opened, depositing Stafford in the corridor near the shuttlebay.  
"Nice talking to you."  
"You too, dear."  
Walking into the shuttlebay, Stafford found Jeffery waiting by the shuttlepod Colt. Much smaller than the Type-9 shuttlecraft that had been used to defend the ship on multiple occasions, the shuttlepod had no warp engines and was only really good for ship-to-surface trips or for inspecting the ship's exterior.  
"What're ye so happy about," Jeffery grumbled.  
"Oh, just had a nice little chat with Sylvia." Stafford said, climbing into the shuttlepod.  
"Has Noonan talked to ye about her yet?" Jeffery asked, Wowryk's slender fingers dancing over the panel as he ran through the pre-flight test.  
"Noooo," Stafford said slowly, "I didn't know he was planning on it."  
"Well, ye know, she's a big security risk,"  
"Huh?"  
"Oh come on! Ye took Holo-Safety 101 didn't ye? Rule one: 'NEVER LET THE COMPUTER THINK FOR ITSELF!"  
Stafford flopped down in the co-pilot's seat.  
"She's not a hologram."  
"Same thing," Jeffery muttered.  
"Yeah, well, if Noonan is gonna talk to me about it, I'll worry about it then." Stafford grumbled.  
"Just keep it in mind,"  
"Yes ma'am! Why are you in such a bitchy mood today?"  
Jeffery/Wowryk blushed.  
"PMS," he muttered.  
"Oh," Stafford said, his eyes widening, "OH!  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Bridge, this is the shuttlepod Colt, requesting permission to depart."  
"Have fun," came the voice of Jall/T'Parief.  
Jeffery waited for a moment.  
"Ye need to open the doors for us, dumb-ass!" Jeffery sneered.  
"Hold on! I'm still having trouble typing with claws!"  
The doors finally slid open, allowing Jeffery to guide the Cold out of the bay.  
"Let's check out the nacelle first," Stafford said.  
"Aye,"  
Jeffery carefully maneuvered the shuttle up to the outboard side of the port nacelle, the shuttlepod's floodlights illuminating the damaged section.  
The nacelle grill, usually visible as a glowing blue band across the sides and rear of the nacelle, had a large section missing 20 meters from the rear of the nacelle. The warp core was idling with excess plasma being shunted to the starboard nacelle, leaving the port nacelle dark. Around the missing section of the grill the hull was melted into smooth, flowing shapes from the warp plasma. Inside the nacelle Stafford and Jeffery could see 3 of the dozen or so huge warp coils that filled both nacelles. Between the plasma vent gaps they could also see the injectors that spit plasma into the coils at carefully timed intervals, creating the pulsating subspace field that drove the ship faster than light. Behind the final warp coil was the massive off-axis field controller assembly that helped to stabilize the warp field at high speeds. Black scorch marks covered everything in sight, either from the weapons fire that had blasted away the protective grill or from the plasma that has been released as a result.  
"Must have been one hell of a lucky shot," Stafford mused.  
"Aye," Jeffery responded, "One in a million. And if we go faster than Warp 3, the plasma leakage will do even more damage."  
"Is there any way to repair this without a Starbase?"  
"Um," Jeffery thought, "Ah canna fix the plasma grill without a lot of raw material," he finally said, "And But Ah can get the field controller and injectors fixed. "  
"Sounds good. Let's move on."  
The two of them maneuvered the pod around the secondary hull and up to the saucer, making notes on the various damaged sections and prioritizing repairs. Stafford took heart in the fact that even after taking heavy battle damage, his ship was still in far better condition, both in functionality and appearance, then when she was launched.  
Finally the pair came to the huge hull breach on the starboard saucer.  
Looking at the damaged area, Stafford was reminded of old footage he had seen of the wreck of Titanic, before the wreckage had deteriorated beyond recognition. That ship's hull had been ripped apart in several places, especially on the stern section, to reveal the interior of the ship. The damage to Silverado was similar except most of the hull that had covered the exposed sections was missing. Around the edge of the breach hull plates had been peeled back by the explosion that had taken out the starboard airlock assembly and a good chunk of the Officer's Mess.  
Looking in, Stafford could see lights still blinking from the bank of replicators along the internal wall, right next to the counter that led to the rarely used kitchen. A few scattered pieces of furniture were present, the majority having been blasted out into space along with the compartment's atmosphere. Nobody had been eating during the battle, fortunately, and thus nobody had been in the room when it depressurized.  
Stafford frowned.  
"I thought Deck 10 was the only deck that took damage from this breach," he said.  
"Aye, that's so."  
"Then what the hell is that?" Stafford pointed.  
Jeffery followed his gaze below the twisted deck plates of the Officer's Mess. Rather then seeing the inside of the outer hull or open space, a low, dark space was visible.  
"Oh," Jeffery replied, "That's a maintenance sub-level."  
"A what?"  
Jeffery thought for a moment how to best explain.  
"It's like a decks worth of Jefferies tubes," he finally said, "Some ship classes, mostly the old ones, had an extra half-deck or two. They used them for SIF generators, gravity generators, inertial dampeners, life support, all kinds of stuff. The old NX-class ships had two sub-levels, for example, but once they started using Jefferies tubes instead, the practice kinda died out. Ah looked it up during the refit when we found this deck; some of the early Ambassador-class ships had two maintenance levels, each about half a deck high, cuz of all the new technologies they were incorporating into the design. Lots of that stuff has been miniaturized since then, so we don't really need the extra space anymore. All the components and circuitry fit in the Jefferies tubes now. This one, Sub-Level A, was half sealed off anyway, we couldn't get into the starboard side. Since we don't need them we sealed off both Sub-Levels A and B."  
Stafford looked back at him blankly.  
"It's not that hard to understand!" Jeffery insisted.  
"I know. It's just really weird talking to Dr. Wowryk about starship engineering."  
"F**k you."  
Stafford paused again, looking at Wowryk's perfect body. Jeffery recoiled in disgust.  
"Sick, man!"  
"What?" Stafford asked, "Oh! NO! That is NOT what I was thinking!"  
"Ye were looking at me tits!" Jeffery/Wowryk claimed indignantly.  
"They're not yours." Stafford shot back.  
"They are right now!" objected Jeffery.  
"That's not how Noel tells it!" replied Stafford.  
"Ah don't think…what the…." Jeffery trailed off.  
"What?" Stafford asked, back to business.  
"Ah thought Ah saw somethin' down there." Jeffery said. He started adjusting the floodlights in the shuttlepod, trying to get a better look into the compartment that had been sealed for half a century.  
Sealed hatch. Dead console. Dead lighting fixture. Dead console. Dead access panel. Dead body. Dead SIF generator. Dead body.  
DEAD BODY?  
Stafford/Jeffery and Jeffery/Wowryk recoiled, gasping in shock.  
"AAHHH!"

Fifebee paced across the back of the bridge while Jall tapped at his panel, reviewing the data the Matrians had sent up regarding the last few days.  
"It would help if you would review this stuff too," Jall/T'Parief muttered, annoyed.  
"I've already downloaded the data into my matrix, so take a chill pill," Fifebee replied.  
"A what?"  
"Never mind. Archaic reference. I'm waiting for you to catch up so we can discuss the situation."  
"Oh," Jall said, then softly, "High and mighty bitch!"  
"I heard that."  
"Good."  
Fifebee continued to wait while Jall read.  
"So, how is your day, Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief?" she asked.  
The Tactical Officer/Security Chief turned towards her.  
"I am a conglomeration of three proud warrior races, trapped in the body of a blond Terran female. How the glork do you THINK I'm doing?" he snapped.  
"I don't see the big deal," Fifebee said to herself, "You're all still alive and healthy. I can change bodies whenever I wish! Sylvia?"  
"Yes, dear?"  
"Please alter the physical characteristics of my program to match that of Captain Carl Jaroch."  
"Just a minute, Jane."  
A second later Fifebee shimmered, changing into a slim Yynsian male.  
"You see?" he said in Jaroch's voice, "It is not a major change."  
"I disagree," T'Parief said flatly.  
"I'm done reading now," Jall piped in.  
"Sylvia, please reset my appearance," Fifebee requested.  
"Done," replied the computer. Fifebee resumed her standard appearance.  
"OK," Jall said, "so here's the deal. The Matrians wake up. The SIDs shut down. Now, we know they had been cloning Matrian men to maintain their population and they were kidnapping men from other races to supplement their workforce. With the SIDs down, the men reverted to their natural mental state, except for an imprinted memory telling them that their penance was complete and that it was time to 'live in harmony'."  
"Yes," Fifebee replied, "The original plan set by the Matrian females was that the men would rebuild their planet as punishment for unleashing weapons of mass destruction during their Gender Wars. This was before Mistress Laurette started her plan for galactic domination."  
"Right. Well, it looks like the revival went perfectly. Enough of the cities have been restored to provide living space. They've got enough cropland for food. Flora and fauna have recovered nicely."  
"Our sensors tell us that much," T'Parief muttered, "What about their political situation."  
Fifebee looked to Jall.  
"Oh," he whined, "That part was too boring to read! You talk about it!"  
Giving a sigh, Fifebee took up the tale.  
"Once the SIDs shutdown, the Matrian Council of Governors decided that Mistress Laurette's idea wasn't all that great. The women elected a Queen and quickly put provisions into place for the Matrian men to elect a King. The men were also able to appoint members of their gender to the Council of Governors. They've scheduled full elections for next year."  
"Great," T'Parief muttered, "So what's the problem?"  
"In a nutshell?" Fifebee asked. T'Parief and Jall nodded.  
"The women aren't used to working, and the men are used to nothing but work. It will take some time for their society to stabilize."  
"Where does Federation membership come in?" Jall wanted to know.  
"I'm not sure. The rebuilding process is sufficiently complete for their current population. They have the technology to feed and clothe themselves-"  
"They want protection," T'Parief/Yanick sneered, the expression out of place on Yanick's normally cheerful face, "They have enslaved thousands. Now they want us to ensure those other races don't return the favor."  
"That is a possibility," Fifebee conceded.  
"Stafford to T'Parief," Jeffery's voice, sans accent, cut in.  
"Yes, Captain,"  
"We have a problem."  
T'Parief grunted.  
"How very descriptive, sir."

Part 4: "Crime Scene Instigations"

"OK, calm down, people, calm down!" Stafford called from his chair at the head of the conference room table. Everybody settled into their seats.  
"Mr. Jeffery, please fill everybody in."  
"We all know already," Jall pointed out.  
"Yes," Stafford said, annoyed, "but this time it's official."  
"We found two dead bodies," Jeffery broke in, heading off another round of mud-slinging, "They've been there for decades and they're dryer than me mum's pot roast."  
"Right." Stafford scratched his ear, "Thanks."  
"Have you performed any scans of the bodies?" Fifebee asked.  
"No."  
"Have they been brought in for analysis?" Dr.. Wowryk wanted to know.  
"No," Stafford shifted in his seat.  
"Has the section been sealed off to prevent tampering with the crime scene?" T'Parief demanded.  
"Um, no," Stafford replied.  
"Why not?" Jall asked, grinning as he leaned over the table.  
"Because that's the Chief of Security's job!" Stafford exclaimed.  
"Then why the boring meeting?" Jall wanted to know.  
"So I can order you all to go do those things!" Stafford snapped, "T'Parief, seal off the crime scene and start your investigation. Once you're ready to move the bodies, turn them over to Dr. Wowryk and Lt. Fifebee for analysis."  
"Aye sir," replied Fifebee.  
"Very well," sighed Dr. Wowryk.  
Silence.  
"Mr. T'Parief?" Stafford prompted.  
"Huh? Oh. Yes. We'll investigate immediately."  
"Good. While we're here, anything else to discuss?"  
Fifebee quickly brought everybody up to date on the Matrian situation.  
Noonan leaned back in his chair, frowning.  
"I would think," he said slowly, "that their current social instability would disqualify them from Federation membership."  
"Hey, we let the Andorians in," said Jall, "they bring whole new meanings to the phrase 'social instability."  
"They were a founding member," Fifebee pointed out.  
"Something's fishy," Noonan insisted, "What does the Federation have to gain from Matrian membership?"  
"It would be a substantial extension of Federation space," Fifebee stated.  
"Too much of an extension," T'Parief said flatly, "defending their border would be an unacceptable drain of our resources,"  
"Never mind that they wanted to conquer us," Wowryk added, gripping her armrests.  
"Um, we wiped out half their fleet with an old Ambassador-class ship," T'Parief sneered, the expression looking odd on Yanick's face, "The nearest outpost is Waystation, and they could have blown the entire Matrian space force into next week!"  
"They were going to go after smaller targets first," Stafford pointed out.  
"Does it really matter?" Noonan cut in, "The point is they tried."  
"Well, it's not our decision," Stafford cut back, "So let's play nice with the evil bitches until the Wasagaming gets here. In the meantime I want the story behind those bodies and I want back in my own body!"  
"I have been exploring several options," Fifebee replied, "I will inform you when I have found something of substance."  
"Hurry up!" Jeffery said, "Ah need my own body back!"  
Similar sentiments were expressed around the table.  
"I will work on it," Fifebee promised.

Less than an hour later T'Parief had Lieutenant Stern and Ensign Simmons in the port saucer airlock, suiting up to go investigate the crime scene.  
"Why was that section sealed off?" Simmons wanted to know.  
"We don't know," T'Parief grumbled.  
"Why didn't we break in when we were refitting the ship?"  
"Because we were too busy and we had no need to do so," T'Parief replied, annoyed, as he pulled a helmet of the rack. He planted the helmet on his head and was somewhat surprised when the lower rim slipped down around his/Yanick's shoulders.  
"You might need a slightly smaller helmet now, sir," Stern giggled.  
"ARRRGGGHH!" T'Parief growled, "T'Parief to Yanick!"  
"Yes, honey?"  
T'Parief winced at being called 'honey' by a male voice, even if it was really the mind of his girlfriend talking to him.  
"What size helmet do you take?"  
"Oh, size 4. I usually wear a 3 and half though, cuz 4 makes my head look fat."  
"Thank you,"  
Cutting the channel and chuckling softly to himself, T'Parief grabbed a size 4 helmet off the rack.

After walking across the upper surface of the saucer (and listening to Simmons whining about feeling sick) T'Parief and his squad found themselves on the edge of the hull breach looking into the Officer's Mess and into the maintenance compartment below. Shining their lights in they could make out the two bodies.  
"Touch nothing," T'Parief ordered as he lowered himself down.  
Hunching down, T'Parief moved carefully under the intact section of the mess hall floor and into the maintenance section. In his own body he would have found it a very tight fit, but Yanick's smaller, slimmer form fit easily. He pulled out his tricorder and started taking readings of the bodies as Simmons and Stern scanned the rest of the chamber.  
Along the far wall a maintenance hatch presumably led to the rest of the sub-level, or had before it was welded shut. Old equipment, circa 2316, was mounted to the walls or scattered across the floor. On either side of a squat SIF generator were the two bodies. The bodies themselves had been mummified after several decades of being locked in an airtight, oxygen-less room. Their old red Starfleet uniforms were in tatters, from age or the explosive decompression was anybody's guess. The generator itself was slag. The right arm of one body was still attached to the generator's access panel, and the lower half of the limb gave the dull shine of old metal.  
"What the hell happened to them?" Stern muttered.  
"That's what we're going to find out." T'Parief said quickly. He moved closer to the body with the severely distorted limb.  
"Yuck," he said flatly.  
"Eh, it's just a dead body," muttered Stern.  
"But it's very dry and veiny," stated Simmons.  
"Silence, please," T'Parief grunted.  
The corpse's arm was fused to the SIF generator at the wrist. It then stretched like metallic toffee up to the elbow.  
"It looks as though this person's arm melted as he or she collapsed to the deck," T'Parief muttered.  
"But why is it all metal-looking?" Simmons wanted to know.  
"Unknown."  
After tapping at his tricorder for several more minutes, T'Parief/Yanick gave a grunt of frustration.  
"We cannot work like this," he declared, "Simmons, use the holo-imager, I want this entire chamber scanned to the last micron. T'Parief to Jall,"  
"What?" came Jall/Wowryk's board and annoyed voice.  
"I need an isolation field setup in Science Lab Two, then I need to have two bodies and an SIF generator beamed to that location."  
"Can't you use Lab One? It's all ready to go!" Jall whined.  
"Lab Two is bigger," stated T'Parief.  
"Geez, you've only been a woman for a few days and you're already a size queen!"  
T'Parief blinked in confusion.  
"Huh?"  
"Never mind. Gimmi 15 minutes to get the lab ready. Jall out."

Later in the evening, Stafford stood behind the bar in Unbalance Equations, stretching to reach a bottle of Tellerite Rum. He stretched his arms up….then stretched onto tip-toes. Finally he admitted defeat and started looking for a stool.  
"Having fun?" his own voice called from behind him.  
"Tons," Stafford replied, stepping onto the stool and reaching again for the bottle, "I hope you're enjoying being tall as much as I'm enjoying my time as a short little-"  
CRASH!  
The bottle slipped off the shelf, smashing into a thousand pieces on the floor.  
"F**K!" Stafford yelled.  
"Y'know," Yanick/Stafford said with a grin, "I probably could have gotten that for you."  
"Oh shut up!" Stafford grumbled.  
"Oh, way to go!" came Steven Steiger's annoyed voice as he and Jall/T'Parief walked into the lounge, "I leave for one minute and people start breaking stuff!"  
"Forget it!" Stafford said, exasperated, "I'm going to go drink in my quarters….alone!" He stormed out the door.  
"One less dweeb to tease," Jall said, "now how am I going to spend my evening?"  
"Let's play Darts!" Yanick said excitedly to Jall.  
Shrugging, Jall followed her over to the dusty dartboard hanging on the wall.  
"I like this game," Yanick was saying, "But I was never really good at it. Maybe now that I'm in a taller, stronger body I'll have better luck!"  
"I don't think our hand-eye co-ordination skills were improved by the change," Jall said as Yanick threw her first dart, "If anything, they're gonna suck since you're using your own skills in a different body."  
"I think you're right," Yanick said despondently as her dart hit the very edge of the board, "Either that or the Captain is even worse at this game than I am."  
"My turn!" Jall said. He wound up and flung the dart at the board as hard as he, or rather T'Parief's body, could. The dart missed the board entirely and buried itself deep in the wall.  
"Maybe we should play a different game," he said flatly, going to yank the dart from the wall. As he did so, a shill whistle of escaping air rang out.  
"Uh, oh…"  
"Warining: Decompression detected in Unbalanced Equations," Sylvia said worriedly, "San, put that dart back in the wall before somebody gets hurt!"  
San stuck the tip of the dark back into the tiny hole in the wall. It was immediately sucked in until the dart was again blocking the puncture it had made.  
"I guess that's the Officer's Mess on the other side of this wall," Jall said.  
"No s**t, Sherlock!" snapped Sylvia, "Now call Engineering and see if you can't find some activity that doesn't involve PUNCHING HOLES IN ME!"  
"Bionic PMS," Yanick said, breaking into giggles.

The next morning Commander Noonan walked into Science Lab Two where T'Parief and Wowryk were examining the two corpses.  
"Bright good morning to all!" he said cheerfully.  
Too professional to snap back at a senior officer, T'Parief satisfied himself by giving Noonan a cold stare. Dr. Wowryk started to make a remark about 'morning people', but broke out in giggles over the expression on T'Parief/Yanick's face.  
"Face it, Lieutenant," Noonan said with a grin, "Yanick is just too blond, pretty and friendly to look scary."  
"Just wait until I get my body back," T'Parief grumbled, "I will wear my head spikes and fang extensions for a month!"  
"Men," muttered Wowryk.  
"So what have you found out?"  
"They're dead and they've been that way for about 50 years," Wowryk said flatly.  
Noonan smiled.  
"Thank you for that fine, forensic analysis Doctor."  
"Cause of death is hard to figure out, seeing as how they've been decaying for 50 years, but judging from the cell damage I'd say they were killed by an energy discharge," Wowryk replied in her best 'I am above you' posture, " Did I mention the bodies are 50 years old?"  
"Indeed." Noonan replied.  
"The generator is slag," T'Parief said, "completely shorted out and fried."  
"What about his arm?"  
T'Parief turned to Wowryk, who shrugged.  
"Completely metal. No organic components at all," she said, "It's not a standard prosthetic arm, they have organic components, yet it seems to be fused right in with his bones. That could be from the generator discharge, or it might have been meant to be that way."  
"Well," Noonan said, "It looks like these two were the victims of a very unfortunate accident.  
"Yup," Wowryk said.  
"I disagree," T'Parief cut in, tapping on his padd.  
"What do you think?" Noonan asked, interested.  
"If this was an accident, why was the section sealed off? Why weren't the bodies recovered?"  
"What do you have in mind?"  
T'Parief thought for a moment.  
"Given the time frame, this occurred either on Silverado's maiden voyage or during her time as an Academy training ship. This had to have occurred before she was scrapped. I want to review records from that period and contact anybody who was involved with the ship who is still alive."  
"Keep me updated," Noonan ordered.  
"You know," Wowryk said as Noonan left, "if you had just accepted this as an accident, you would have saved yourself a lot of work."  
"It's my job," T'Parief replied simply.

"Here ye go," Jeffery said, setting aside the hatch he had just removed from the Jefferies tube between decks 10 & 11, "Ah canna unseal the starboard side until the breach is repaired, but here's the section we cleared out."  
"Thank you," T'Parief said, climbing through.  
"So it's all right with ye then if I go back to be regular duties of working me ass off to fix the damage to this crate?" Jeffery asked, adding a heaping helping of sarcasm.  
"Yes, thank you for your help."  
"Yer sure? Ah have yer permission?"  
"Go away!" T'Parief grunted.  
Snickering, Jeffery left.  
T'Parief shone his hand light around the empty sub-level. Jeffery had restored power to the lighting, however only 1 in every 3 lights was actually lit. Those that were functional flickered, bathing most of the level in inconsistent shadow. T'Parief found himself in an old-style Jefferies tube. Crawling along he saw hatches opening into low rooms that he assumed had once been filled with bulky equipment. The equipment itself had been removed but sockets, cables and brackets hung from the walls. The ship's air recycling system kept the area free of dust, but several cobwebs had formed and T'Parief more than once soiled his knees on the droppings of some of the several species of vermin that had infested the ship as it sat in the Rigel VI Salvage Depot.  
Crawling along, T'Parief found the sealed hatchway to the room directly beneath the Officer's Mess where the bodies had been found. The hatch itself was welded neatly to the bulkhead. The weld had been smoothed in such a way as to make prying the hatch open impossible. Only a heavy-duty cutting phaser would open it up.  
T'Parief took careful readings of the weld with his tricorder then pulled a sampling drill off his belt. He took a tiny sample of the metal and returned to Science Lab Two.  
Running the sample through a complete analysis, he was able to determine the exact date the weld had been made.

Some time later, T'Parief was back in the security office. He had continued to investigate the two bodies found in the ship, but was so far unable to make any conclusions. The bodies were far too badly degraded for fingerprinting or retinal scans and the DNA results were inconclusive. He had been able to determine that they had been killed by an energy discharge and had died instantly. He was also able to determine that the compartment had been sealed AFTER their deaths. As for why, he had no clue. He did, however, have a lead.  
After much hunting he had finally located the subspace comm code for the nursing home in which Vice-Admiral Grelus, Captain of the Silverado at the time of the accident, was spending his final years. Tapping at his panel, he put through a call to Bolarus.  
A prim looking Bolian nurse appeared on screen.  
"Happy Blueberry Retirement Community, how may I help you?"  
"I'm must speak to Vice Admiral Grelus. It is a matter of some urgency."  
"On moment, please."  
T'Parief was treated to a view of Bolian coastline as annoyingly bubbly hold music played.  
Finally, an elderly, frail Bolian male appeared on screen.  
"Yes?" he wheezed.  
"I am Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief, Chief of Security aboard the U.S.S. Silverado."  
"Silverado?" the man said, looking first surprised, then grinning, "Why, my first command was a ship called Silverado. They commissioned a new ship? Took them long enough. That name's been retired since, well, the incident. What class? Sovereign?"  
"No," T'Parief said, "Ambassador."  
The old man coughed for several seconds before spitting up a massive wad of green phlegm.  
"Sorry," he said, "Bit of a cold. I though they stopped building Ambassador-class ships years ago? Real shame…that was a real classy design, that was."  
"They did, and it is." T'Parief agreed.  
"Then how-"  
T'Parief quickly explained how the wreckage of the original Silverado had been reclaimed by Operation Salvage. The old man visibly deflated.  
"Well, it's good to know the old girl's finally made it out there," he said, subdued, "She deserved better than what she got."  
"I'm sure she'd agree with you," T'Parief muttered.  
"So what do you want with me?" demanded the elderly Bolian.  
"We've found bodies, dating back to your maiden voyage, sealed in one of the maintenance levels," T'Parief explained.  
"What? That's preposterous!" the old man said, a little too quickly.  
"The deaths are being treated as suspicious," T'Parief continued, "I wish to ask you some ques-"  
"I had nothing to do with it," the old man wheezed, "you can't prove anything with two corpses!"  
"Sir," T'Parief snapped, baring Yanick's pathetically tiny teeth, "This is an official Starfleet investigation. You will co-operate."  
"Fine," snarled the old geezer weakly, "ask your questions."  
"Where you aware a section of your ship had been sealed off, shortly after the 'systems failure' that put Silverado out of commission?"  
"Nope, no clue,"  
Frowning, T'Parief moved on.  
"Surely you noticed the missing crewmen after the incident,"  
"Nope,"  
"The anomalous energy discharge doesn't ring a bell?"  
"What's an energy discharge?"  
"You are being DELIBERATLY difficult!" T'Parief/Yanick snapped, "You will co-operate, or I shall come over there and beat you to a pulp!"  
"I'd like to see you try, girlie!" The old man slammed his hand down against the cut-off switch, breaking one frail wrist in the process.  
"GLOZORK!" T'Parief screamed, slamming his fist against the monitor.  
He was disappointed when the impact from Yanick's soft, girlish fist didn't even scratch the screen.  
"Waitaminue…I never told him how many corpses there were!"

"Be-Deep!"  
"Be-Deep!"  
"Somebody at the door for you, San," Sylvia intoned.  
"Go away," Jall/T'Parief muttered, rolling over and trying to go back to sleep.  
"It's 1800h!" Sylvia objected, "Wake up and answer the door!"  
"Who asked you to butt in?"  
"The young lady at the door."  
"Fine!" San grunted. He climbed out of bed, grabbed his housecoat (now about 5 sizes too small) and padded to the door.  
"What?" he asked in a long, drawn out groan.  
Dr. Noel Wowryk stood at the door, looking back at him coldly from his own eyes.  
"Hey, good-lookin'!" Jall chuckled.  
Dr. Wowryk shuddered as she stepped inside and walked to the bedroom.  
"Um, what the hell do you want?" Jall demanded.  
"I need your dress uniform!" she snapped from the closet, "Or did you forget about the Matrian reception tonight?"  
"I did, actually," Jall admitted.  
"Well it starts in an hour," Wowryk said primly, walking out with Jall's dress uniform in hand, "So I suggest you get ready. NOW!"  
"Oh, so you come in here, wake me up, take my stuff and now you're giving me orders?"  
"Ohhh," Wowryk sneered, "Quit complaining! I'll be owing you MONTHS of payback for the perverted thoughts I've had to endure from this filthy body!"  
"My body is NOT filthy! Mind over matter, baby!"  
"What are you implying?" Wowryk snapped.  
"Implying? Nothing." Jall leaned against the door frame, "I'm flat out saying that you need some dirt in your life! I can recall one particular incident where you rolled in the mud. It didn't kill you, did it?"  
"I'm above such things!" Wowryk huffed, "Just because I had a lapse in judgment-"  
"HA!" Jall inturrupted, "Y'know what I think? I think you're sick of being the nice little girl! You had fun when we were stuck in that temporal loop, when you finally had the chance to be bad without anybody else knowing about it! Face it. You want to try new things. You're just too afraid to actually do it because you're afraid it will tarnish your precious reputation!"  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Wowryk said coldly.  
"Yeah?" Jall/T'Parief moved closer to Wowryk/Jall, "Tell me you haven't been thinking about Simon. How you wish you were back in your girl body so he could take you into his arms, kiss you deeply and-"  
"Stop!" Noel screamed. She slapped Jall/T'Parief across the face. Jall barely felt the impact through T'Parief's thick skin.  
"Think about it, Doc," Jall said with an evil grin.  
"I hate you," Wowryk said coldly.  
"No, you hate that I'm right."  
"You're a disgusting, perverted heathen," Wowryk said finally, "And I will not be drawn into another pointless debate with you." She turned to go.  
"There's something else you should know about that body, Doctor," Jall said, his evil grin stretching into a full smile.  
"What?"

T'Parief was carrying his dress uniform to Jall's quarters after having picked Yanick's up from her quarters. The reception was taking time from his investigation, but the Captain was insisting on having his Chief of Security there. A wise choice.  
"AHHHHHH!"  
The voice was Jall's, but the inflections were a 100% genuine, patented 'Shocked Dr. Wowryk' scream. Sure enough, Jall/Wowryk came racing down the corridor from Jall's quarters, tears streaming down her face.  
Coming up to where Jall was laughing hysterically, T'Parief tossed him his dress uniform.  
"What the hell did you do to her?" T'Parief demanded.  
"Oh, just told her a little secret about the body she's living in."

Stafford paced back and forth in Transporter Room 1.  
"We're going to be late!" he groaned.  
Yanick, Fifebee, T'Parief and Jeffery were already in the transporter room dressed in their white dress uniforms. T'Parief/Yanick and Jeffery/Wowryk had tried to apply minimal makeup with little success. Yanick/Stafford smelled like lady's perfume and Stafford/Jeffery had spend two hours practicing how to pick up a wine glass without spilling it. Jeffery's shorter arms had totally screwed up his hand-eye co-ordination.  
"I'm here!" Jall declared brightly as he lumbered into the room, wincing as he cracked his/T'Parief's head on the doorframe.  
"Nice move," Yanick giggled.  
"Have you seen Wowryk?" Stafford asked.  
"Ahem," Jall put on a very serious face, "I have just shared some disturbing information with the Doctor and she is too upset to accompany us at this time."  
"Oh man, what did you say to her?" Stafford sighed.  
Jall told him.  
"Oh s**t!" Stafford cried, "Do you have any idea what you've done? She's Catholic! What if you've driven her off the deep end! That kind of thing could destroy her!"  
"She was being a bitch," Jall shrugged.  
"Sylvia!" Stafford called out, "Where's Dr. Wowryk?"  
"She's in the Arboretum, Captain," Sylvia replied, "And she's very upset."  
"Pysternzykz," Stafford turned to the Andorian transporter chief/shuttle pilot, "beam myself and Yanick there, NOW!"

Stafford materialized on the grass in the Arboretum to the sounds of splashing water and sputtering. Looking around quickly he found Dr. Wowryk standing in the small pool under the decorative waterfall. A Bible, quickly becoming damp, was sitting on the slick rock nearby and Wowryk/Jall had a gold chalice in one hand, which she dumped out over her head.  
"Noel!" Trish called out, "Are you OK?"  
"UNCLEAN!" Noel cried out, dumping another chalice-full of water.  
"Look, Doctor," Stafford said, "In this day and age, it's not a big deal if somebody's-"  
"IT'S DISGUSTING!"  
"But Noel, not everybody believes in-" Trish started.  
"It's revolting! Don't you understand?" Wowryk was sobbing hysterically, "I'm in a body that's NOT BAPTIZED!"  
"Look, Doc," Stafford said, trying to sound soothing, "As soon as we're finished with the reception, we'll run a nice holodeck program and we can baptize you until you drown."  
Wowryk looked up at him with red, pouting eyes.  
"Really?" she asked in a small voice.  
"Really," Trish said, "I'll even help. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."

A short time later, Yanick led a dryer, cleaner (but still sniffing) Noel Wowryk/San Jall into the transporter room. Stopping only to glare angrily at Jall/T'Parief she took her place on the transporter pad next to Fifebee's hovering holo-relay.  
Stafford looked like he was about to say something, but instead in just shook his head and stepped up onto the pad.  
"Energize"

Part 5: 'Diplomatic Insanity'

Stafford, Yanick Wowryk and the rest of the away team materialized in the Grand Council building of Matria's capitol city, Matronus. Painstakingly reconstructed by males during their century of punishment, the center of Matrian government reflected the peaceful, prosperous world it had been before the Gender Wars. Deep wood paneling, marble floors and huge chandeliers gave a sense of power and order.  
Unlike the inhabitants.  
Either they were earlier than Stafford had realized or the Matrians were having serious organizational problems. Men and women were running around frantically while a stately woman with smeared lipstick, running mascara and frizzy, tangled hair snapped orders. As the team from Silverado materialized, everybody stopped to stare, bringing an eerie silence to the room.  
"May I be excused?" Jall muttered, noticing the variety of stares they were receiving. Most of the men and women were just staring at the group, but some women glared at them with open hostility. There were also a number Matrians of both genders staring with expressions of curiosity, wonder, distaste and even reverence.  
"Grow up, Jall," Stafford muttered back.  
"Captain!" The woman in charge called with annoyingly insincere friendliness as she wobbled over. Yanick and Wowryk were convinced she was going to wobble right off her high heels, but she somehow caught her balance at the last moment.  
"So good to see you!" she gushed, grabbing and pumping Stafford's hand, "I'm Pendi. I do so hope I'm doing this right…"  
"Chris Stafford," the Captain replied, "Um, doing what?"  
"The handshake!" Pendi replied, "Never heard of this custom before, but we do want to be as welcoming as possible, especially to our benefactors."  
"Uh, right," Stafford said, trying hard not to stare at the blob of lipstick stuck in the corner of Pendi's mouth, "You're doing fine."  
"Thank you," she turned to address her workforce, calling "Carry on!" out in a noticeably friendlier tone than before.  
"You'll find things have changed considerably over the past few days," she said to the away team.  
"Everybody's awake?" ventured Jall.  
"Well, yes," Pendie replied, her voice taking on the 'I'm-talking-to-an-idiot' tone found so often in those with over-inflated egos, "You'll also find many social changes as well."  
"Uh-huh," Stafford said, skeptical, "I find it hard to believe that every woman on Matria is happy with the way things have turned out."  
Pendi looked uncomfortable at this.  
"Well," she said uneasily, "There will always be those who disagree with the majority. I'm sure once we get used to the real world they'll come around.  
"Oh, sure," Jall/Wowryk muttered. Yanick elbowed him/her discreetly in the gut.  
Pendie led them through a stately hallway and into a lounge. Solid wood furniture and walls of deep red reminded Stafford of a steakhouse he often frequented on Earth. Yanick, Wowryk and Jall all made mental notes that the Matrians really needed some lessons in interior decorating. Several Matrians were presently sipping drinks and munching on appetizers.  
"The actual reception will begin shortly," Pendi said, "But we felt a more informal gathering would be best at first."  
"Uh, sure," Stafford replied.  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Pendie called, raiser her voice, "May I present Captain Stafford of the U.S.S. Silverado and his officers."  
There was polite applause as Pendie left before the Matrians returned to their drinks.  
"It's not just the one girl," Yanick/Stafford said in surprise, "None of the women on this planet know how to use makeup!"  
"They've been in Dreamland for a century," Fifebee said, "They're probably used to willing their makeup into place."  
There was silence for several minutes, the Silverado officers looking back with some reservation at the crowds of staring Matrians.  
"Now what?" Jeffery asked, twisting his/Wowryk's hair uneasily around one finger.  
Stafford shrugged.  
"We mingle," he said finally.

For all the chaos displayed by the staff, waiters and etc, the Matrian Council Members themselves seemed well briefed on the situation involving Silverado. Wowryk/Jall was immediately swarmed by a group of Matrian women, each asking about her time both in the Matrian Dreamland and in the Dreamland in which she had reigned as Queen Wowryk, despite the fact that she was in a different body. Jeffery hovered near Wowryk's side while Yanick went straight for the refreshment table. Stafford found himself facing a very beautiful, very familiar woman. His heart fell as he saw the very young, very attractive Senousian male on her arm.  
"Prefect Telfidi!" he smiled, "How ya doin'?"  
"Captain," Telfidi smiled warmly, "We're doing very well, thank you. I'd like you to meet my son, Rikard."  
"You're son? I didn't know you were married."  
"Married?" Telfidi looked confused.  
"Y'know," Stafford shifted nervously, "I didn't know you had a husband. A mate. The father of your child. Nice to meet you by the way, Rikard."  
The youth nodded nervously and gave a quick grin.  
"Oh," Telfidi laughed, "We don't believe in marriage. That's part of why we left our homeworld. Rikard's father is still on Senous. I see him now and then. Rikard himself was held captive by the Matrians for 6 months before you helped Prefect Lashette shut down the SID network."  
"About that," Stafford said uneasily, "You remember that Prime Directive we talked about right after you tried to take over our ship?"  
"Yes." Telfidi took on a knowing look, "You're worried your superiors will accuse you of violating it."  
"Well, sort of," Stafford said, accepting a glass of Matrian wine, "They're not exactly happy about the situation, but since it was Lashette that actually smashed the system we're not technically at fault."  
"But, uh, you fought the Matrians," Rikard spoke up, his voice shaky, "I was on one of the ships you disabled."  
"Oh," Stafford hunted for something to say, "Um, sorry about that."  
"Please Captain," Telfidi smiled, "we're very grateful for what you've done. And if portraying Lashette as the 'big hero' will keep you out of trouble with your superiors we are very happy to do so. But you played a very important part in our liberation, and we're not going to forget that," she took a step closer to Stafford, kissing him on the cheek and then looking right in his eyes, "I'm not going to forget that."  
Stafford started stuttering a reply before Jall/T'Parief walked up from behind Telfidi and Rikard, clapping a large, clawed hand on the young man's shoulder.  
"Hi all!" he said cheerfully, "Having fun?"  
Rikard spun around to find himself face-to-chest with the huge reptile, made a slight choking noise, then fainted to the floor.  
"That's the third time that's happened," Jall sighed.

"I think Jall's having some problems with your body," Yanick said to T'Parief/Yanick with a giggle as she watched the young Senousian faint from shock.  
"Good," T'Parief muttered.  
"It's kinda funny. Remember what my brother did the first time he met you?"  
"He tried to shoot me," T'Parief said flatly.  
"Yeah. That was great!"  
"Yes," T'Parief sighed, a tear forming in his/Yanick's left eye, "I miss having that effect on people."  
An attractive (in Yanick's opinion) Matrian male approached them, smiling widely at T'Parief/Yanick.  
"Welcome to Matria," he said, "May I say, your hair is the most beautiful shade of-"  
"I am a male trapped in the body of a female due to a malfunction in your SID network," T'Parief said bluntly, cutting him off, "As such, your attempts to flatter me are most insulting."  
"I'm a girl," Yanick/Stafford said with a giggle," On the inside at least. But I got trapped in this guy's body in the same accident."  
"Ohhh…right," the Matrian looked disappointed, "Mistress…um, Queen Anselia mentioned that there were some after-effects to your trip."  
"If you mean the trip into the Dreamland that we made which resulted in the freedom of yourself and hundreds of thousands of others, then yes," T'Parief said, looking coldly at the man.  
"So," the Matrian said, shifting his weight and obviously trying now to make polite conversation, "which body is really yours?"  
"That one," T'Parief said, longing in his voice as he pointed out the massive reptilian form that stood towering over several Matrians.  
"I…see…" the Matrian said, "Excuse me!" He immediately departed, careful to keep his distance from Jall/T'Parief.  
"Feel better, hon?" Yanick asked.  
"Slightly."

The Matrians were clearly trying hard to be good hosts. Despite their outward appearance, they were charming, polite and for the most part appeared to be grateful to both the Silverado crew and the Senousians for returning their society to its original path.  
The Matrian women were universally a fashion disaster. Makeup skills were obviously very rusty, as was hairstyling and dress coordination. The Matrian men, while being more neatly dressed, looked somewhat haggard from their hard work conditions. To Yanick's delight, it was evident that the Matrian men had benefited from lifetimes of hard work, as evidenced by broad shoulders and thick arms. To her equal frustration, her reptilian boyfriend and her entrapment within Stafford's body prevented her from having a REALLY good time.  
Stafford was finally starting to relax. Fifebee was speaking to a tall, grim looking Matrian, evidently one of the scientists who had invented the SID network. From what Stafford had gathered, Fifebee was trying to learn something that would help return the crew to their original bodies. The woman was cooperating, but claimed that there was no record of anything similar ever happening before. He hoped that Fifebee would at least get some useful information on the devices themselves. T'Parief and Yanick were mingling nicely while Jeffery and Wowryk continued to talk to a crowd of Wowryk's admirers. Jall was proving to be a slight embarrassment, but everybody was too scared of his claws to really say anything about it. And best yet, Telfidi was giving him some very suggestive glances.  
Stafford's sense of ease immediately evaporated as he saw a very familiar woman enter the room: Mistress Laurette. She looked disdainfully around the room before focusing on Stafford. She immediately stalked right at him and slapped him across the face.  
"Meddler!" she snapped.  
Apparently, Laurette had missed the meeting at which the Matrian Council had been briefed on the status of the Silverado officers. It may have been Stafford's body that she slapped, but Trish Yanick's mind was in residence and wasn't going to take that kind of treatment from another woman!  
"You bitch!" squealed Yanick/Stafford as she jumped at Laurette, slapping at the other woman's face.  
"Uh-oh," Stafford muttered to Telfidi.  
"You had to come and mess up a perfectly good thing!" Laurette snapped as she wrestled Yanick/Stafford to the floor, "Our society was perfect! You ruined it!"  
"F**k you, you skank!" yelled Yanick shrilly.  
T'Parief/Yanick immediately jumped into the fray, attempting to separate the two combatants.  
"Ladies," he snapped, "I must insist that you-" Laurette lashed out with a fist, cuffing T'Parief/Yanick on the chin and sending him/her flying back into a table.  
Stafford rushed to his helmswoman's aid, but was passed by a brownish-green blur as Jall/T'Parief vaulted over the buffet table and picked up Laurette in one hand, Yanick/Stafford in the other.  
"That's my best girl you're messing around with," Jall growled at Laurette.  
"I think you need your eyes checked!" Laurette snapped back.  
"Um, Councilor…"one of the Matrians who had been escorting Laurette tried to pipe in.  
"WHAT?"  
"Y'know that meeting we missed this morning? The one I've been trying to fill you in on all day?"  
"This REALLY isn't the time!" Laurette snapped, twisting in Jall's grip.  
"Well, there was a malfunction when the Dream Nexus shut down, and the Silverado officers wound up in the wrong bodies! You just assaulted their helmswoman! And besides, it was a Senousian who destroyed the network."  
Laurette stared for a moment, then broke into cackling laughter.  
"Serves them right! Now somebody get this overgrown frog to put me down!"  
"Will you behave?" Jall asked.  
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, honey," Laurette said to Yanick/Stafford as she/he fumed from where she hung from Jall/T'Parief's other hand.  
"Whatever," Yanick muttered as Jall released them both. Councilor Laurette proceeded directly to the bar, wobbling slightly on her heels.  
"Well, that was fun," Stafford muttered to Telfidi as he returned. Rikard had regained consciousness and stood next to his mother, looking at Jall/T'Parief with just a hint of fear.  
"You OK, bud?" Stafford asked.  
"That's a very big lizard," Rikard replied.  
"Oh, he's harmless," Stafford laughed, "Wait, scratch that. T'Parief in that body is harmless. I dunno about Jall…"  
Nobody noticed T'Parief leave.

As the reception officially started everybody was moved into a large banquet hall. The Silverado officers sat with Prefects Telfidi and Lashette at the center table, right in front of the head table where Stafford assumed the new King and Queen of Matria would be making their appearance.  
"Did anybody see where T'Parief went?" Stafford asked.  
"No, I didn't" Yanick said. She had been laughing and joking around with Jall, "Oops…"  
"I don't have any visual records of him following Yanick's altercation with Laurette," Fifebee reported.  
"Stafford to T'Parief," Stafford tapped at his comm-badge.  
"T'Parief here," came Yanick's voice.  
"Commander, where are you?"  
"I have returned to the ship to focus on my investigation into the bodies, sir."  
"I would prefer to have you down here," Stafford said, "We may still have problems with the Matrians."  
"I'm more effective in this capacity, Captain," T'Parief said coldly, "As proven by my inability to assist Trish. I'm sure Jall can provide whatever assistance you need."  
"Yeah," Stafford whined, "But you're easier to deal with!"  
"Thank you Captain, but I would very much prefer to remain here."  
Stafford thought for a moment. Jall had managed Laurette fine, Fifebee was near indestructible and he was a Starfleet captain. T'Parief was admittedly pretty useless as a Security officer in the body of a short blond girl.  
"Very well. Have fun."  
"Thank you, sir. T'Parief out."  
"Well," Wowryk said, "That solves that."  
"Poor T'Parief," Yanick sighed, "He must feel so bad. I should go up there and give him a big hug,"  
"I'm sure he's fine," Wowryk said, "It's not like he's been thrust into the body of a horny jackass or anything,"  
"Yer not the only one having problems adjusting," Jeffery said, "Imagine how it must be for us! We've lost, well, a lot!"  
"Yes, I'm sure the purity of the female body is such a burden." Wowryk muttered.  
"Purity my ass!" Jeffery muttered back, "If something bleeds for 7 days without dying, it sure as hell is NOT PURE!"  
"I can't take you people anywhere public, can I?" Stafford sighed, "Stafford to Noonan,"  
"Noonan here," came the calm, smooth voice, "What can I do for you?"  
"Listen carefully…"

Part 6 'Elementary Security'

"…and so," Queen Anselia was saying, appearing larger than life on Silverado's main viewscreen, "With the return of normal society and the successful re-integration of males and females, now is the time to strengthen ties with other cultures and to continue the missions of exploration started by our ancestors, so many years ago."  
"The Captain is scratching his butt again," Ensign Burke pointed out. He was assigned to Sciences, but was leaning against the Tactical rail next to Lieutenant Stern in order to better view the screen. The away team was visible in the lower left as they paid close attention to the Queen's speech.  
"And Jall is picking at his scales again," Sylvia added, her face displayed on Noonan's armrest display.  
"We need lives," Ensign Day stated flatly from Ops.  
Noonan chuckled.  
"It's astonishing though," Sylvia went on, "Records of races who have recovered this quickly from conflicts do exist, but it's very rare."  
"Technically," Noonan pointed out, "They've been 'recovering' for the past century."  
"Yes," Sylvia conceded, "The men have been working on the physical reconstruction. But what of the social changes? How is it that they suddenly have a working government? Job assignments?"  
"It was all in the original plan, from what I understand, Sylvia," Noonan replied, "Their society was on 'hold'. By smashing the Dream Nexus, Prefect Lashette pressed the 'Play' button."  
"We could learn much from them."  
"And we likely will," Noonan agreed.  
"Can't we see what's playing on Krinorkom?" Burke whined.  
"As I've explained," Noonan said with a sigh, "We need to observe in the event the away team encounters difficulties."  
The bridge doors opened, revealing Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief/Yanick.  
"Hello," Noonan said cheerfully, with a meaningful glance at Sylvia, "How's your investigation going?"  
"I have been attempting to contact Vice-Admiral Grelus," T'Parief said, walking over to and Auxiliary console, "But so far I haven't been successful."  
"Who's he?" Stern asked.  
"He was the original Captain of the Silverado," Sylvia cut in, "He's actually been retired for about 20 years or so."  
"Interesting," Noonan said.  
"I'm hoping he can shed some light on my investigation."  
"Very logical."  
Noonan watched as former mistress Laurette took the microphone.  
"As leader of the Opposition," she started, "It is my duty to critique any plans or activities made by our government. Whether it be the introduction of a new health care program, or," she snarled at the table of Starfleet officers and Senousian prefects, "conspiring with aliens to derail our perfect society!" She pulled a boxy device from one pocket as the Matrian Council gasped in shock.  
"I have here," she snapped, "the remote commander to a backup Dream Nexus, which I secretly commanded the males to construct. When I activate it, the Dream Machines still in place on Matria, our ships and even the cursed U.S.S. Silverado will activate, returning us to the correct path!"  
"Oh, s**t," Noonan muttered as the rest of the bridge crew watched in shock.  
"How dare you!" snarled King Hektor, "You'd make us slaves again? Against the wishes of the Matrian people?"  
"The Matrian people have been deluded," Laurette said with disdain, "It is my duty to help them!"  
"DIE, B**CH!" snarled T'Parief's voice as Jall/T'Parief and Stafford/Jeffery rushed the stage. Jall was hit by an energy been before he even got close, dropping to the floor with a crash. Stafford managed to wrestle the control unit from Laurette and smash it to the floor before being taken down.  
There was the sound of more weapons fire, then the transmission ended.  
"Stern, scan the planet. Can we get our people out?" Noonan ordered.  
Stern tapped as his panel.  
"I'm not picking up any comm-badge signals," he reported, "And humans are too similar to Matrians for us to detect from up here."  
"Matrian security to Silverado,"  
"This is Commander Noonan speaking," Noonan replied, pacing the bridge.  
"There has been an incident at the Council Building. We believe Laurette is going to try to active a backup Nexus manually. Her people have informed us that they have taken your people hostage."  
"Our transporters can't distinguish humans from Matrians from orbit. Can you rescue our people and stop Laurette?"  
"Our people lack experience. We need somebody who's been trained for this kind of thing."  
Noonan turned to T'Parief.  
"Take Stern and Dar'ugal to the planet. Try to rescue the hostages, but above all, stop Laurette from activating that Nexus!"  
"Sir," T'Parief said quietly, "Perhaps Stern should…"  
"I know you're having problems adapting to Yanick's body," Noonan said softly, "But there's more to security than being big and bad. Let Dar'ugal and the Matrians handle that part. What they need is somebody who knows what they're doing. The Captain is depending on you."  
T'Parief straightened up.  
"You can count on me, sir."

T'Parief, Stern and Dar'ugal materialized outside the Council Building. T'Parief felt incredibly short next to the 7 foot tall Barudan. Dar'ugal was in the midst of a shedding season and so tufts of red fur kept floating down onto T'Parief's uniform. Stern stood at 6'4" and was another dominating presence to the officer now trapped in the body of a short farm girl.  
Several Matrians in grey uniforms were standing nearby.  
"Her people hold the banquet hall," one of the men reported, "But we don't know where Laurette herself is."  
"Then we'll take the hall first," T'Parief decided, "Set weapons to stun. We will need to question them. How many entrances are there to the hall?"  
"4," replied the Matrian, "The main entrance, the kitchen entrance and two side entrances. They're all guarded."  
"Let's go see."  
T'Parief and his team followed the Matrians to the reception area outside the banquet hall. Using his tricorder T'Parief was able to pinpoint the life signs in the room.  
"87 life signs," he muttered, "10 standing, apparently armed."  
"We need a distraction," muttered one of the Matrians.  
"One of us could pretend to be kitchen staff," Stern suggested.  
"I have a better idea…"

Following T'Parief's orders, Pysternzykz activated the transporter, beaming over a dozen stun grenades into different parts of the banquet hall. Each grenade was set to minimum stun to allow time for security to restrain the hostiles, but awaken them quickly for questions. The team outside the Banquet Hall listened to the sound of multiple explosions going off inside. As the last grenade detonated, they rushed in.

"I will tell you nothing!" snapped the man. He had been found unconscious near the Silverado officers. Only Stafford, Telfidi and Lashette were missing, the others having been sent back to Silverado. The Matrian Councilors were slowly stirring.  
"I want to know where the Captain is," T'Parief said slowly, "I also want to know where to find Mistress Laurette!"  
"I'll never tell you."  
"I think you will," T'Parief said coldly, "Lieutenant Stern?"  
Stern held up a china teacup he had taken from the head table.  
"This," he said, "Belonged to Mistress Laurette," he dropped the teacup, which shattered into hundreds of pieces, "Oops!"  
"How dare you!" gasped the Matrian, "That was the property of our Divine Mistress!"  
"There's more where that came from," T'Parief said as Stern held up a china plate and fork. He drew the fork across the plate, leaving a deep scratch and producing a painful squealing sound.  
"You're a monster!" the Matrian howled.  
"Thank you," T'Parief replied, "You have no idea how much better that makes me feel. Now tell me what I want to know!"  
"There's a tunnel beneath this building," the man gasped, "it leads to the Backup Nexus. She's taken your Captain with her."  
"Thank you. Stern, Dar'ugal, you're with me. The rest of you, secure this building."

Leading his squad down into the lower levels of the building, T'Parief encountered several Matrians who were evidently still loyal to Laurette and her ideals of female dominance. He had to force himself to remain with his squad, relying on weapons fire to dispatch his opponents, rather than rushing in with claws bared.  
Finally, they found a promising sight; a large steel hatch covering a spiral staircase. The stairs led into a dark tunnel that looked to lead away from the Council Building.  
Rushing down the stairs, T'Parief narrowly missed being struck by an energy beam. He immediately fired back, missing by over a meter as he tumbled to the floor. A weight struck him from above as Stern's fell to the floor. He was still alive, but the energy beam had severed his left arm below the elbow. He gave out a gasp of pain as he clutched at the cauterized stump, then passed out. Dar'ugal's phaser shot found the assailant right in the stomach and the Matrian collapsed with a shriek.  
"Blortch!" T'Parief cursed. He tapped his comm-badge, "T'Parief to Silverado. Stern needs immediate retrieval."  
No reply.  
"There must be interference," T'Parief stated. Dar'ugal nodded agreement. T'Parief scanned Stern with his tricorder. His vitals appeared to be stable, for the time being.  
Dar'ugal gave T'Parief a worried look. He pointed at Stern then dragged his finger across his throat in the universal 'kill' gesture, then shrugged.  
"His injuries aren't life threatening and we cannot let Laurette activate that Nexus," T'Parief said, "We'll come back for Stern later."  
They continued down the dark tunnel.

Running at top speed down the tunnel, T'Parief quickly found that Yanick's body wasn't in anywhere near as good shape as his own. Soon sweat was pouring down his/her face as he gasped and wheezed.  
What could he possible do? He was slowing down Dar'ugal, who could run for hours and not even break into a sweat. His tricorder wasn't able to pick up Laurette's life signs, which meant that she was either out of range or that the interference affecting his communicator was also blocking the device.  
T'Parief worked hard to keep his body in peak condition. Although his physical evaluator at Starfleet Academy had noted him down as being 'somewhat clumsy' and 'slightly uncoordinated' he worked hard to ensure that his strength, stamina and marksmanship were beyond reproach. Being robbed of that and stuck in the body of a slightly plump female who's idea of a hard workout was climbing onto a horse was having a serious impact on his job.  
Fine then, T'Parief thought to himself, This is no time for self-pity. How do I solve this problem?  
He could see three possibilities:  
1. He could run as fast as Yanick's slowing body could take him in the hopes that it would be fast enough to catch Laurette.  
2. Send Dar'ugal on ahead to catch Laurette.  
3. Ask for Dar'ugal's help.  
Number 1 would satisfy his pride. Number 2 gave Dar'ugal the best chance to catch Laurette, but the worst chance of successfully overpowering her. Number 3 was humiliating.  
Do you want to catch that bitch or satisfy your glorxing pride? a small voice asked in the back of his head.  
T'Parief made his choice.  
"Ensign," he wheezed, I need-"  
T'Parief/Yanick was cut-off as one of Dar'ugal's huge, furry arms reached out and caught Yanick's body across the midsection, tucking T'Parief/Yanick to Dar'ugal's side like a football. T'Parief gave a yelp of surprise as Dar'ugal put on an immediate burst of speed.  
"Thanks," he muttered.

"I'm picking up an energy source," T'Parief said to Dar'ugal, hanging as he was in Dar'ugal's grip, "100 feet ahead. It must be the Nexus. Put me down."  
Dar'ugal immediately released T'Parief, who dropped to the flood with a dull 'thud'. He was immediately on his feet, phaser in hand.  
He gestured to Dar'ugal to remain follow him silently as he crept towards the tunnel exit. He had to admit, Yanick's body was far more discreet than his own. Easing around the corner, he caught sight of his quarry.  
The tunnel opened into a large, dome-shaped chamber. In the center was a thick pillar of computer equipment. Tiny lights blinked all over the pillar's surface. Thick conduits stretched from the walls of the dome and into the computer core. Laurette was standing on a small raised platform near the central core column. Two male Matrians, obviously still loyal to Laurette, held phasers on Stafford and Telfidi. As T'Parief watched, a large section of the core split away from the pillar and lowered itself towards the platform on which Laurette stood.  
"Laurette," Telfidi called out, "You can't expect this plan to work! Most of your slaves have been returned home. My people will attack the minute they find out-"  
"Your people have no warships," Laurette sneered, "We've seen to that!"  
"My people do!" Stafford shot back, "And we're more than capable of blasting your fleet to pieces!"  
"Your ship's a wreck," Laurette said, "We've seen to that as well! You can't hope to stand against the combined forces of our remaining fleet! We'll blow that pile of rust to dust!"  
"Maybe Silverado can't" Stafford said, "But one Galaxy-class ship could turn your fleet and most of your planet into rubble!"  
"Don't do this!" Telfidi pleaded, "It's time to live in peace!"  
"F**k peace!" Laurette snapped, tapping at the panel.  
"STOP!" T'Parief cried out, stepping into the room, phaser aimed squarely at Laurette. Dar'ugal pointed his weapon at the Matrians covering the hostages.  
"The little blond girl," Laurette said with an evil smile, not turning from her panel, "Come for some tea and crumpets?"  
"I've come to stop you! Step away from that panel!"  
Laurette turned to look at T'Parief/Yanick.  
"Fine." She moved away from the panel, "You realize that if you shoot me, your Captain will die." Her voice was almost conversational.  
"Kill the bitch!" Stafford called.  
"I would think you of all people could understand what I'm trying to do," Laurette said, "I understand you're used to a more masculine body. But can't you see how superior the female form truly is? You can make a man tremble with the merest glance! A gentle caress and he's your slave!"  
"Your ancestors made the decision to make their men their equals," T'Parief called out.  
"They were wrong! The Gender War proves that!"  
"Your people have decided to follow their original plan," T'Parief said, edging closer to Laurette, "You have no right to make this decision for them!"  
"Enough of this! Kill him!" she snapped, pointing at T'Parief.  
T'Parief immediately dropped to the floor as an energy beam passed directly through the space his head had previously occupied. Dar'ugal stunned the guard on the left while T'Parief forced off a shot at Laurette. Diving for the panel, Laurette dodged the phaser beam, hit one last button and took off running through a door in the opposite wall.  
"ACTIVATION IN 3 MINUTES," announced a computerized female voice.  
While this was happening, Stafford drove his elbow into the other guard's gut. The man collapsed, wheezing before Stafford knocked him out with a blow to the back of the head.  
"Are you all right," T'Parief asked, running up to Stafford and Telfidi, Dar'ugal close behind.  
"We're fine," Stafford said, "We'll stop the Nexus, you stop Laurette."  
"Aye sir," T'Parief turned to Dar'ugal, "Use your phaser on overload to destroy the Nexus, if necessary," he ordered as he chased after Laurette.

Laurette, as it turned out, hadn't made it very far.  
"Stupid men," she muttered as she tapped at the panel next to a pair of sealed doors.  
"Need a hand?" T'Parief asked coldly.  
Laurette spun to face the blond security officer.  
"Back of!" she snapped, "And I'll let you live!"  
"I don't think you're in a position to make threats! T'Parief shot back, "Even if you escape, the Captain will shut down your backup Nexus.  
"I'll be free to try again!" Laurette said defiantly.  
"Don't count on it!" T'Parief took a menacing step towards the Matrian.  
"ACTIVATION IN TWO MINUTES."  
"Don't be silly," Laurette said, fear starting to show in her eyes, "fighting will gain us nothing. I'm larger and stronger than you."  
"I'm well versed in several different combat styles," T'Parief said calmly, "most of which are designed for use against larger opponents."  
"Fine!" Laurette rushed at T'Parief, who was barely able to dodge. As Laurette rushed by, he dove at her knees, knocking her to the floor. Laurette immediately flipped over and kicked at the smaller woman's body.  
T'Parief once again had to choose between satisfying his honor, and using what advantages his new body possessed. It was time to employ a style of fighting not employed by Starfleet officers or taught as Starfleet Academy. A style of combat favored by Trish Yanick on those rare occasions when drunken parties degenerated into barroom brawls.  
It was time to fight dirty.  
Gripped on the leg that had tried to kick his face, T'Parief/Yanick bit down hard, electing a scream of pain from Laurette. Reaching up he grabbed a handful of her long, dark hair and yanked with all his might. Lashing out, Laurette struck his arm, yanking her hair in a whole new direction and drawing another scream of pain from the battered ex-mistress. Pulling himself to his/Yanick's feet, T'Parief kicked Laurette hard in the gut, then knocked her out with a blow to the head.  
"Bitch!" he spat.

Dragging Laurette by the ankles, T'Parief returned to the Nexus chamber, where Stafford and Telfidi had just successfully shut down the Nexus.  
Stafford looked down at Laurette's bloodied face.  
"Nice job, Commander," he said with a smirk.  
They turned to look at the computer core.  
"This should be destroyed," Stafford said.  
"Would that be a Prime Directive violation?" T'Parief asked.  
"I dunno."  
"I'll do it!" Telfidi said brightly, adjusting one of the Matrian energy weapons and tossing it at the core.  
"I think we should run now," Stafford said calmly.  
"Um, yeah."  
They ran like hell, making it safely into the tunnel before the Nexus core exploded with a resounding BOOM!

Lieutenant Stern passed the tub of popcorn over to Ensign Burke, who grabbed a handful and succeeded into getting about half the popcorn into his mouth, the rest spilling onto the carpet.  
"You look good with one arm," Burke said though his full mouth.  
"That was definitely fun to watch!" Stern said with a grin, "Biting, slapping and hair pulling. Man, he's NEVER gonna live that down!"  
"I think it's time to let him know what was really going on," Noonan said with a grin.  
"Oh, one second," Day said, tapping at his panel. The view on the main screen switched from wide-angle to close-up, zooming in on T'Parief/Yanick's sweating face as he hurried down the tunnel, "OK, now do it."  
"Sylvia," Noonan said, "Please end the simulation in Holodeck 1."  
"Can I record this for future use?" the computer asked.  
"Sure."  
"Program Terminated," announced Sylvia's voice as the 'tunnel' on the main screen faded back into the standard holodeck grid.  
T'Parief looked around in shock as the tunnel, Dar'ugal, Stafford and everything else disappeared, revealing blank holodeck walls. Noonan and the bridge crew could see a vein start to throb on his/Yanick's forehead shortly before he broke into a very impressive display of profanity.

First Officer's Log, Stardate 56451.9  
Mr. T'Parief has successfully completed the holodeck scenario we prepared for him. I believe he has learned to value the unique advantages he has gained by being moved into a different body. He has calmed considerably since we shut down the holodeck. We are fortunate that Ensign Yanick's body does not sport claws, or the holodeck would likely be down for repairs again.  
On another note, Captain Stafford and the away team have returned from the reception.

"BUAAAAPPPPPP,"  
Yanick turned to Wowryk/Jall as the latter quickly moved a hand to cover her/Jall's mouth while the rest of the away team filed out of the turbolift, generally looked haggard and tired.  
"Excuse me," Wowryk said in a small voice.  
"Yeah, excuse you," Yanick laughed, waving a hard back and forth.  
"I take it the food was good?" Noonan inquired.  
"Oh, the food was gooood," Stafford said, an evil grin on his face.  
"And the reception was enjoyable?"  
"Veerrrry enjoyable," Stafford said.  
"We sat," Jall complained, "For 4 hours, listening to various big-wigs with bad makeup blabber about the 'New Age of Matria' and 'Improving Relations'."  
"Ex-Mistress Laurette got drunk and had to be thrown out," Jeffery said.  
"8 Matrian men asked to marry me," Wowryk piped in, "Then Jeffery started an argument-"  
"-bored out of my skull"  
"-stupid diplomatic bulls**t"  
"Why then," Noonan asked Stafford as the Captain settled into his chair, "was the reception so enjoyable?"  
Stafford leaned back, looking smug.  
"I was a BAD boy," he finally said.  
Noonan lifted an eyebrow.  
"Meaning?"  
"Meaning," Fifebee cut in, "That the Captain and Prefect Telfidi were fornicating in the bathroom during Councilor Letaria's speech."  
"You had sex with a foreign dignitary during a diplomatic function?" Noonan asked, surprised.  
'"IN MY BODY?" roared Jeffery.  
"Man," Jall reached over the Tactical rail and clamped one of T'Parief's meaty, clawed hands on Stafford's shoulders, "I have, like, a totally new respect for you!"

Captain's Log, Stardate 56381.5  
"We've been orbiting Matria Prime for over a week now. Jeffery and his crew have done a pretty good job of applying big, ugly patches to most of our hull breaches. On the other hand he's decided that the damaged warp nacelle and the big chunk missing from the saucer are lost causes without a dry dock. The Matrians have been pretty quiet, calling up for some advise on agriculture or something the other day, but mostly just focusing on getting themselves up and running. Queen Anselia has finally re-learned the method for properly applying lipstick. One can only hope that she'll share this amazing new breakthrough with the rest of her people.  
T'Parief wasn't exactly thrilled to find out that he had been beamed into a holodeck scenario rather than an actual crisis, but he hasn't been moping around quite as much, which leads me to believe that he's getting settled a bit more comfortably in Yanick's body. Speaking of bodies….

"I have thoroughly reviewed all information given to us by the Matrians on the Dream Machines, Dream Nexus, Dreamland and the Dream Network," Fifebee stated, gesturing to some complicated looking schematics displayed on the conference room screen, "As you can see-"  
"Actually," Stafford cut in, "I can't. How about you translate that confused tangle of lines for us?"  
"I was about to do just that!" Fifebee huffed, "Anyway, some of the scientists who initially designed this system have assisted with my analysis."  
"And?" Wowryk asked.  
"The Dream Machines are designed to act as intermediaries between Dreamland and the user's brain, stimulating neurons and reading brainwaves to allow the user to experience and interact with the virtual world. Although all neural activity is mapped, only motor and sensory cortex information is actively used or stimulated, leading us to-"  
"Translate please," Stafford said, twirling his finger in the universal 'hurry-up' gesture.  
"They have no idea how this could have happened, or how to reverse it."  
"S**t," remarked T'Parief.  
"Indeed."  
"Do you have any ideas?" Stafford asked Fifebee.  
"In theory," Fifebee said thoughtfully, "because the device has the ability to both 'read' and 'write' brainwaves, we could read the brainwaves of two individuals, then write them into the correct brain."  
"But?"  
"In this case," Fifebee said, "We don't know if we are truly transferring the mind of the person, or merely altering another mind to match it. For that matter, we don't know if Jall's mind really IS in Mr. T'Parief, or if Mr. T'Parief has been altered to behave like Lt. Jall."  
There was silence as the officers exchanged glances.  
"That's a very scary thought," T'Parief/Yanick muttered.  
"Can we test that in any way?" Stafford asked.  
"Actually," Wowryk piped up, "I've run intensive brain scans on several crewmen. I've compared the readings to archived data on victims of brainwashing or mind-altering cults and organization. There were no matches at all."  
"That doesn't confirm anything!" Fifebee complained.  
"Are you questioning my-"  
"Ladies, please," Noonan said, "If you'll give me a moment…"  
Noonan concentrated hard, first on Stafford, then on Yanick.  
"Your souls have indeed switched bodies," Noonan concluded.  
"What?" Jeffery asked, "Ye figured it out just like that?"  
"Yes."  
"So what do you suggest?" Stafford asked. He was getting to the point where his First Officers strange talents and behaviors just seemed less and less important.  
"I don't think Federation science is going to hold the answer," Noonan said, "It hasn't even been able to prove conclusively that humanoid beings have souls, never mind how to transfer them."  
"I agree," Wowryk and Fifebee said in unison.  
"We need to return to Federation space," Fifebee continued, taking her seat, "There is at least one alien body-switching device on record. We may also find assistance from the Vulcans. There are also many highly skilled scientists aboard Waystation, in the employ of Dillon Enterprises."  
"But I want my body back now!" T'Parief objected.  
"Eh," Stafford said, "We've managed for almost two weeks. We can manage a few more."  
"What?" snapped Jeffery, "And give ye the chance to defile me body again?"  
"At least it finally got some action!"

Shortly after the meeting, T'Parief approached Yanick on the bridge.  
"I must speak with you," he said softly.  
"Sure!" Yanick gave him a bright smile as she slid out of her station, "Hey Chris, can we use your ready room for a minute?"  
"Well," Stafford started, "actually-"  
"Thanks!"  
Yanick led T'Parief into the ready room. She plunked right down in Stafford's chair and picked up a chunk of plastic from the desk.  
"Hey!" she exclaimed, holding it out to T'Parief, "I think the Captain's building a model of something! I wonder what it could be?"  
"The Silverado, perhaps?" T'Parief ventured.  
"Probably! Wow, you're smart!"  
T'Parief decided not to point out the 'U.S.S. Silverado' decal attached to the model piece.  
"I need your help," he said instead.  
"Uh-huh?"  
"I am investigating the bodies we found-"  
"I know!" Yanick inturrputed.  
"AND," T'Parief went one, "I'm pretty sure Admiral Grelus knows something. But he is not being co-operative. Threatening him is not working. I need to make use of some of the strengths of this body to make him talk, but I'm not sure what to do."  
"Oh, that's easy," Yanick said, "try to seduce him."  
"That," T'Parief admitted, "I had not considered. How do I do this?"  
"Easy!" Yanick said, "Hit on him, and compliment him. And if all else fails, show some skin."  
"I don't know if I'm comfortable using your body that way," T'Parief said slowly.  
"It's in the line of duty," Yanick said, "Go for it. It's not like I've never used my looks to get what I want. Just remember: all men are horny pigs."

The old man sighed.  
"You again?" he asked.  
"Yes," T'Parief affirmed, "I'm sorry for the way our previous meeting went. I hope I can," he grimaced inwardly, "make it up to you…"  
"What did you say your name was?"  
"T-, um, Trish. I was," he batted Yanicks big blue eyes, "really hoping you could help me out."  
This time Grelus hesitated.  
"I, um, don't know anything," he said, sweat breaking out across his face.  
Following Yanick's advice, T'Parief used one hand to pull his hair back, leaning back so Yanick's breasts were pressed against the non-duty uniform he was wearing.  
"I…oh…" Grelus was cracking.  
Leaning forward again, T'Parief forced himself to look deep into Grelus rheumy eyes.  
"I would…really appreciate it if you would help me out," he said, the off-duty shirt hanging down slightly as he leaned forward, showing off Yanick's cleavage.  
"Oh, OK, FINE!" Grelus sighed, "Yes, I know exactly what happened!"  
"Then you admit to killing them?" T'Parief cocked his head.  
"No!" snapped Grelus, "Of course not! But we did cover it up. That I admit."  
"What happened?"  
"It would take too long for me to explain," Grelus wheezed, "But if the bodies were still there, then you'll be able to find the ODN sub-processor for that section nearby. We left the records in that unit intact and sealed it with them. We figured anybody finding the bodies would find the records. They deserved to at least have somebody know what happened to them."  
"I see," T'Parief said, "I will contact you if I have further questions."  
"I'm not going anywhere," Grelus said, "But, um, before you go, could I get another look at those? I haven't seen a body that great in years!"  
T'Parief cut the channel.

"Why are we here?" Stafford asked, looking around the empty holodeck.  
"Because," Noonan replied, "Your Security Chief requested it,"  
"Goody for him," muttered Jeffery.  
The three of them were waiting for T'Parief to arrive. Finally, the holodeck doors hissed open and T'Parief/Yanick strolled in.  
"I have found an explanation for the two bodies," he announced.  
"Great," replied Stafford, tapping his foot impatiently, "How?"  
"There was an intact sub-processing unit in the sealed section. Using the data from that unit, I have created a holodeck re-enactment of the incident. Sylvia?"  
"Yes, hon?"  
"Please initiate program 'Engineers are Stupid'."  
Jeffery's protest was lost as the simulation began.

Around 50 years ago:

Crewman Greene cursed as he hit his head on the ceiling of the cramped maintenance level for the 8th time.  
"Will you hurry up?" snapped Crewman Taslen from behind him, "Some of us would like to finish and go off duty THIS millennium!"  
"Shut up," muttered Greene as he rubbed his head with his prosthetic arm. Continuing on, he finally reached section 3, their last stop for the day.  
The two crewmen had been assigned by Chief Engineer Chuks to re-tune all the Structural Integrity Field generators in Sub-Level A. The SIF was a powerful force field used to reinforce the hull of starships. SIFs allowed starship hulls to withstand the rigors of impulse and warp speeds while remaining (relatively) lightweight. A ship without an SIF would need a massive, thick hull and a huge amount of structural reinforcement just to make it to Warp One.  
"Last one," Taslen said triumphantly, removing the access panel on SIF generator 3A-S.  
"Let me do this one," Greene said.  
"Uh-huh, yeah, right," Taslen muttered.  
"C'mon! I'm just as good with machines as you are!"  
"Yeah, maybe BEFORE you replaced your arm with that overgrown fork! Why you didn't get a normal, flesh colored, insulated bionic arm installed is beyond me.  
"Hey," Greene objected, "When YOU lose an arm to some Nausican bandit, you can get what ever kind of replacement you want. It just so happens I LIKE stainless steel!"  
"Fine!" Taslin sighed, "Go nights."  
"Thanks," Greene reached into the innards of the SIF generator.

Stafford, Jeffery and even Noonan stood in silent shock as there was a massive energy discharge from the SIF generator, liquefying Greene's prized prosthetic arm and catching both men in the backwash. Energy rippled over power conduits and through control circuits, throwing sparks and frying components throughout the chamber.  
The view switched to an external viewpoint, showing Silverado flying through space. Stafford realized that at this minute the ship's odometer must be reading 5.74 light years, the distance at which Silverado had the critical systems failure that led to her being decommissioned. The old-style Ambassador-class bridge module was the only sign that they were looking at the ship as it was 50 years ago.  
Lights began to flicker as energy discharges raced over the ship's hull. The warp engines grew dark and the ship started to spin as it dropped out of warp. Looking carefully, Jeffery could see tiny ripples running through the hull, caused no doubt by the damage to the SIF field. Hull plates broke free and went flying through space as the saucer shuddered. Computer generated sound effects added in the sounds of groaning, twisting and snapping metal as a fresh ripple of damage flickered across the saucer, ejecting even more hull plates. Lifeboat hatches started opening all over the ship as the crew made a break for it, leaving the dying ship adrift.

The lights in the holodeck came back up, revealing the faces of three very surprised officers.  
"That," T'Parief said calmly, "Was my reaction as well."  
"So, the whole reason this ship was scrapped wasn't because of poor construction, but because some dolt shoved his metal arm into an active SIF generator?" Jeffery asked.  
"Yes."  
"Setting her pattern early, I see." Stafford muttered.  
"Why cover this up?" Noonan asked, "It was an accident!"  
"Would you want to explain to a board of inquiry why you assigned a man with a metal arm to repair to repair high-powered equipment?" T'Parief asked, "Do the words 'fork in a toaster' ring a bell?"  
"Point taken."  
"According to Vice-Admiral Grelus," T'Parief continued, "He agreed to help Chief Engineer Chuks seal off this section in return for his resignation. Chuks died 20 years ago when he was attacked by a giant squid while snorkeling off the coast of Australia."  
"Well, this explains a lot," Jeffery admitted, "It definitely explains the structural damage we found during the refit. If a ship were to have a spontaneous reversion to real space with a malfunctioning-"  
"Thank you, Fifebee," Stafford cut Jeffery off.  
"F**k you too," Jeffery muttered.  
"So you solved the mystery of the dead bodies and answered a few questions regarding this ship," Stafford said, clapping T'Parief on the shoulder, "Good work."  
"What about Grelus?" Noonan asked.  
"I have informed the authorities. I doubt any action will be taken against him, considering his age and health."  
"Doesn't that bother you?"  
T'Parief thought for a moment.  
"No. He is already suffering sufficiently."

Part 7: 'Epilogue'

The next evening, Stafford was reclining comfortably in Unbalanced Equations, watching Matria Prime orbit slowly above him in the large windows at the back of the lounge. The station to which Silverado was tethered had an unusual orbit that had it following the planet's Prime Meridian of longitude as it swung past the south pole, across a vast ocean then over the north pole before passing above the main continent and the city of Matronus. Stafford lifted his glass to the planet.  
"To the most bothersome bunch of bitches in the galaxy," he toasted, then downed his drink.  
"At least they got you laid," Jall pointed out, setting T'Parief's bulk into the special chair Steven had had brought in for him.  
"I don't want to talk about sex with you," Stafford said bluntly.  
"Funny, you'll talk about it with a room full of dignitaries. I bet half of them must have heard you sque-"  
"Shut up."  
"It's so nice to see everything getting back to normal," Yanick sighed from her chair.  
"Sitting next to myself is never normal under any possible stretch of the term," Stafford said simply.  
"Y'know, people have been saying for centuries that it's not what's on the outside, but what's on the inside that counts."  
"That's just something ugly people say," Jeffery muttered, sipping his whiskey.  
"Honey, shut the f**k up," Wowryk said calmly.  
"Aye, dearest," Jeffery replied, abashed.  
"Do you think Fifebee will every figure out a way to get us back into our own bodies?" T'Parief asked.  
"If she can't somebody will," Stafford said, "Worst case scenario, we let the Daystom Institute try out those brain transplantation procedures they've been dying to test."  
"He's joking, right?" Jall said, shifting his gaze from person to person, "Please tell me he's joking."  
"Wouldn't you like to know," Stafford said, a gleam in his eye.  
"Maybe there's a greater lesson to be learned here," Wowryk said, leaning back in her chair, "We faced the enemies we spent most of the last 8 months fearing. We've traveled deep into unknown space, encountered new races-"  
"And new women," Stafford added.  
"Please stop bringing that up," Wowryk said, annoyed.  
"What? The fact that I had dirty, non-Catholic-"  
"Anyway," Wowryk cut him off, "We've encountered new races, made new allies and adapted to these horrible new bodies. And yet we've come through it-"  
"Here it comes," Jall muttered, "The sentimentality. She's going to tell us how we're still good friends, colleagues and all that bulls**t"  
"Actually," Wowryk said, "I was going to say that we've come through it as the same group of squabbling children we were the day we first met."  
"Oh," Jall thought for a moment, "OK, that's fair."  
"I'd like to think we've improved," Stafford said, stretching his arms over his head, "I mean, Doc, we can have an actual conversation now without you whipping a padd at my head."  
"I was stressed," Wowryk said defensively.  
"Uh-huh."

Captain's Log, Stardate 56451.7  
"With the arrival of the starship Wasagaming, it is again time for us to say a cheery 'Farewell' to the Matrian system. I hope that Ambassador Owens is able to reach an agreement that will lead to a strong relationship between the Federation and the Matrian Republic. At least that's what my official log says."  
"Hope they tell the bitches where to go shove their membership application."

"The recorder is still running, Captain," said Sylvia, a smile evident in her voice.  
"What? Crap! Remove that last sentence."  
"Are you sure I shouldn't just submit this to Admiral Tunney, Priority One?"  
"I'm sure." Stafford said, panicked.  
"Calm down. It's taken care of."  
"Phew," Stafford settled back into his chair, "Thanks, Sylvia."  
"Don't mention it."  
"We're being hailed by the Wasagaming," reported Jall.  
"On screen."  
The image of the approaching Galaxy-class starship was replaced with the image of a grey-haired, balding man in his late 50s.  
"Captain Stafford, I presume."  
"Yup, that's me," Stafford said, not bothering to stand.  
"Ambassador Owens. Pleasure to meet you. Nice…um, ship you have there."  
"Yes, isn't it," Stafford said flatly, "If you'll excuse us, we're going to start limping home for repairs."  
"I was hoping to get your assessment of the Matrians first," Owens said hurriedly.  
"It's in my report," Stafford said, "It looks like they're trying hard to get their act together, but we're a bit jaded, considering the trouble they've put us through."  
"Understood. Well, now that the experts are here I'm sure we'll come to an agreement."  
"Thanks. Have a nice stay."  
He gave Jall the 'kill transmission' gesture.  
"Trish," he ordered, "Set course for Waystation. Warp 3.5. And if I try to turn us around before we get there, somebody PLEASE sit on me until the urge passes."  
"I'll keep that in mind," Jall said cheerfully.  
"Somebody who doesn't weight so much. Y'know what, how about just stunning me until the urge passes?"  
Silverado detached smoothly from the Matrian station and shot off towards Federation space, her damaged nacelle leaving a lovely steam of high-energy plasma in her wake.

End.

This fully concludes Season One of Star Traks: Silverado. At this point, Season Two and most of Season Three have been uploaded to this site. I'm pausing uploads to go back and re-upload everything due to formatting issues, but will likely continue to upload all five seasons. Feedback is appreciated!


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